


A Long-Winded New Year

by PoolexBordey_Forever



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Angst, Borrowed Characters from my other fanfics-in-progress, F/M, Friendship/Love, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, New Year's Eve, Romantic Tension, Self-Reflection, Unrequited/Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 47,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoolexBordey_Forever/pseuds/PoolexBordey_Forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new pattern of thoughts. A new wave of emotions. As Taylor Swift said: "This is a new year. A new beginning and things will change." Or so Richard and Camille hope. But change comes with a slew of consequences and sacrifices. Are they ready for it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm here again to drop this here new Richard and Camille fanfic on your screens. (I know, I have no business writing another new fanfic when I've not finished the other ones I have...*hangs head in shame* But what can I do, I have a need for more RxC 'fics. It's a bad habit to break.) 
> 
> But rest assured that this is an already finished story. What's that? OHMYGERD pigs are flying?!? Yes, not about the pigs flying, but about this being an already finished story. It's a first for me. Well, this has been on my hard drive for a while, I started it in December of last year. It was originally titled, "A Christmas Waltz" and it was intended to be just a simple, short, fluffy Christmas fic. 
> 
> Alas, I couldn't finish it before December ended. So I was at a loss as to how I could salvage it. I came upon the idea of just turning it into a New Year's thing. Of course, I didn't finish it before January ended. Notice a pattern here? So I figured what the heck I'll just keep writing and building on it, which is a dangerous thing. For it turned into a completely different beast altogether. Suffice it to say that this is no longer a simple, short, fluffy fic. I'm beginning to think I'm not capable of writing something succinct and to the point. It has to be this elaborate and long-winded tale (hence the title). 
> 
> Shoutout to Gilda. I tried her method of writing the whole story out before publishing it on here. Thanks Gilda, it was a tough exercise for me. I forced myself to finish the whole thing even when I was beginning to HATE it so much. In my head, I was like "Goshdarnit! End already!!!" Yes, it was quite a challenge. Of course, I won't publish it in one go. But please be assured that updates on this one will be regular. I just need to read and re-read chapters to make sure there are no glaring errors before I post them. 
> 
> Here are the first two chapters for your reading pleasure. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read it, give feedback and kudos. I really appreciate it. (^_^)

* * *

A New Year’s Eve black tie event was the last thing on his mind but Detective Inspector Richard Poole didn’t seem bothered too much by the whole affair. For one thing, he was used to such events during his university days and for another, there was nothing he could do but to attend. In short, he was simply resigned to his fate.

As much as he wanted to go back to London to have a proper winter holiday— the biting cold weather, the food, the snow, a pint by the snug at the White Hart—the gods of travel didn’t smile on him. Instead, they saw it fit to ‘punish’ him by stranding him in the benighted island of Saint Marie in a season clearly meant to be cold and snowy!

If only he could have planned the whole trip earlier but no, murders choose no time or place to occur. And occur they did until it was too late for him to do anything. His team was very commiserating of his plight. They fully understood his need to go home especially during the winter season. But there was nothing that could be done. Maybe he could take his holiday off a month or so after, they suggested, it would be slow season then. He just nodded dejectedly.

So there he was poised to spend the winter season in the heat when Commissioner Selwyn Patterson strode in with a gilded envelop in his hand.

“I’ve heard your trip fell through. I’m so sorry about that, Inspector,” said the Commissioner, quite sincerely.

“No need to worry, sir. I’ll just make the most of it here on Saint Marie or what’s supposed to pass as a proper winter,” he said doing an air quote gesture as he said the word winter. “...around here.” A subtle sarcasm was now evident in his tone of voice.

“Ahem,” warned Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey as she looked at him and raised her eyebrows pointedly.

Richard took the hint. “Um, what can we do for you, sir?”

“I’ve received an invitation to a New Year’s Eve dinner party organized by the British Consulate in Pointe-a-Pitre. Unfortunately, my wife and I won’t be able to attend as we have a prior engagement on that day. But I’ve already told them that there will be a representative who will attend in my stead,” the Commissioner smiled slyly.

Richard didn’t like it when their boss smiled slyly, it meant the old man was up to no good. And usually that no-good-something would be aimed at him.

“You see, Inspector, events like these are very important to Saint Marie and its presence in the Crown’s radar. We are a very small island. It’s easy to neglect us or put us aside. So it’s up to us to make our presence known to gain that continued support and recognition,” explained the Commissioner, dangling the bait now.

“And I believe each one of us has the utmost responsibility to contribute to this endeavour in our own ways. Am I right, team?” He smiled and looked at the others in the station expectantly.

Camille, Sergeant Fidel Best and Constable Dwayne Myers just nodded.

“I understand what you mean, sir,” said Richard. He might as well bite the bullet, he had a feeling he knew what the Commissioner was talking about, probably assigning a security detail for the representative of the event. ‘Good god, it might as well be me since I don’t have anything to do on this island on New Year’s Eve anyway,’ he thought crankily.

“Good,” said the Commissioner, still smiling. “Here’s the invitation. I’ve already done the courtesy of getting you a black tie ensemble and it will be delivered at the hotel where the VIP guests are staying for the event.”

Richard stared at his boss, mouth opened in surprise. “Sir? You want me to attend this event? I mean, as your representative?”

“Yes, Inspector. It seems the island has smiled on me and brought me good tidings. As I do not wish to miss this event but I cannot possibly reneged on my prior engagement, it has given me another door to open,” the Commissioner said matter-of-factly.

“So you didn’t leave me any choice on the matter, did you? Sir?” Richard was beginning to get irritated because his boss saw it fit to make decisions for him. Again.

“Ah...Ahem,” Camille coughed again to warn Richard about his attitude. But he couldn’t care less. It was bad enough that he wasn’t able to go home for a winter vacation, now the Commissioner had taken advantage of this very unfortunate event by making him go to a formal affair he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. Well, sod making Saint Marie’s presence known and recognized, he was going to give his boss a piece of his mind.

He was about to go into a full on rant when the Commissioner smiled and nodded benevolently. “Yes, Inspector, I didn’t give you any choice because it is a direct order coming from me. As Chief of Police, this is also part of your responsibility. You know the words I gave to the British Consulate, ‘In lieu of my absence, my Chief of Police Richard Poole will be attending on my behalf.’ So I trust you will do your duty brilliantly.”

Richard was about to retort something impolite when Camille interjected, “Sir, I’m sure the Inspector will represent you swimmingly in that event.” She shot a warning look at Richard, who ran his hand over his face in frustration.

“Good,” said the Commissioner, quite pleased. “By the way, Detective Sergeant Bordey, you will be going with him.”

“Sir?” Camille asked, a bit confused at the sudden turn of events. “I think you just need only one representative. I’m sure the Inspector can manage.”

She hated going to a stuffy, formal event and given that this was hosted by the British Consulate, it was highly unlikely that this was going to be a Caribbean-style shindig. She could hold her own in such parties when she was undercover because she had to act the part. But if she was attending as a detective sergeant of the Royal Saint Marie Police Force, the sheer English formality of the event would most likely bore her to tears.

Plus, it was New Year’s Eve, she didn’t really want to spend the end of the year with stuff shirts she didn’t know and most especially, she didn’t want to be around Richard when he whinged about not being home to have a proper winter vacation for the nth time.

“Do I really need to repeat what I said to the Inspector earlier, Detective Sergeant?” asked Commissioner Patterson, smiling and raising an eyebrow at the same time.

Unlike Richard, Camille quickly caught on and said readily, “No sir. I understand.” There was no way out of it. When duty called, she just had to grin and bear it. She was more concerned about how her mother would take it. ‘Ah, she can just blame the Commissioner for ruining the New Year for her,’ she thought, sighing inwardly.

“Well then, I expect both of you to represent the Royal Saint Marie Police Force with utmost dedication and panache. Have a good evening,” the Commissioner said, looking like a Cheshire cat as he walked out of the station.

Richard rubbed his temple in frustration and groaned. Camille took the opportunity to swipe the invitation off of his hand. He didn’t offer any protest as Camille opened the card. They were both going so it didn’t really matter anymore. Dwayne and Fidel looked over her shoulders.

Camille sighed audibly, which got Richard’s attention. “I knew it. A very formal New Year’s Eve dinner and of course, I have nothing formal to wear. Also, maman would not like this piece of news.”

“Don’t worry Camille. I’m sure the Commissioner has already assuaged Catherine’s disappointment and anger by now,” reassured Dwayne. “You know, that man doesn’t just walk in here, dropping a bombshell like this without a plan, right?”

“I agree with Dwayne, Camille,” said Fidel. “I’m sure he had already explained the situation to your mother beforehand. Besides, if she needs company on New Year’s Eve. Juliet and I can invite her to a simple feast at our house and watch the fireworks together afterwards.”

“Thank you, Fidel. That would probably keep her mind off of my absence,” Camille smiled, feeling a bit relieved. “Or she’ll most likely open her bar all night and have a New Year’s Eve party with her customers.”

Richard looked at them wordlessly. Now they were commiserating with Camille while he was the one away from his family for a long time and had missed the chance to spend a nice winter break in his beloved London. A feeling of self-pity nagged at him.

“It would be good for you, too, Chief. You know, to keep your mind off not being able to go home during winter back in London,” Dwayne said with a cheeky smile and glint in his eyes. “The party might even be inside the British embassy. Why, you’ll be practically on British soil celebrating with your fellow citizens.”

Richard gave him a serious look. But he got distracted by Camille and Fidel’s laughter. “Come on, Sir, don’t be so grumpy. Dwayne’s right. It’s as close to home as you can get,” said Camille with a wide smile so disarming he couldn’t help but give in to a grin.

He didn’t know if it was because of their teasing or because of the prospect of spending New Year’s Eve with Camille. But he dismissed the latter thought immediately. They had a duty to fulfill, after all.    

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

On the drive back to Richard’s shack, Camille couldn’t help but picked up on Richard’s pensive mood. She was a bit worried about him. “You really wanted to be away from Saint Marie that much huh?

It was intended to be a joke to tease him but it came out rather unnatural and a bit serious in tone. “Well, I wasn’t able to spend Christmas at home this year. You know, where Christmas means the bitter cold, the snow, all the warm drinks and comfort food at home. Stuffs from my childhood...” Richard said, waving his hand and sighing. “Now, I won’t get to spend the New Year’s there, too! I just wanted to experience winter again.”

Camille wanted to say Saint Marie could be fun and the whole team was there to include him in their festivities. But she held her tongue. Now wasn’t the time to insist that he be happy to be with them.

“So is this your first time spending winter on the other side of the world?” she asked instead.

“Yes, I suppose,” Richard said, looking out the window. Camille thought that would be the end of their conversation so she didn’t press him for more details. But she was surprised when Richard spoke again.

“Back at the station, you said that I can handle being the only representative of the Commissioner at the New Year’s Eve party. You really won’t come if the Commissioner hadn’t ordered you to?”

“If the Commissioner said that only one representative would suffice and that representative would be you. Then I really don’t have a say on the matter, right?” she responded.

‘Why does she always answer a question with another question?’ Richard thought irritatedly. But he continued on.

“Yes, that’s true. But it isn’t a conference or a training. It’s a social event. Um, and usually people don’t come alone in social events.” Oh god, he was losing his courage. What was he on about in the first place?

Camille, on the other hand, was quicker than him in these sorts of things. She smiled inwardly but she was not going to say what he wanted to hear from her. She needed to draw him out some more and force him to make his intentions clear. 

“Well, some people do and it’s not a bad thing. If the Commissioner tells you that you can bring someone along as a date in the event, I don’t see why you can’t do that?” Camille said nonchalantly.

Ah yes, a date. He wanted to know if Camille would go with him as his date if the old goat assigned him as the only detective who can attend the party. Hypothetically speaking, of course, but yes that was it. “Um, Camille, I don’t really have any prospective date. I haven’t met a lot of women on this island, you know.”

“That’s easy. Maman can set you up with someone. If you can only reveal the type of woman you like,” she answered, teasing. “It would be easier for her.”

“No, thank you very much,” Richard answered brusquely. He realized he might have been a little rude with that remark, so he backtracked. “I mean, with all due respect to your mother, I don’t think I want her matchmaking skills involved in my nonexistent love life.”

Camille giggled. “Who knows, she might work wonders on it.”

“Camille,” he admonished. “So you’re saying if the Commissioner allowed me to bring someone along as a date I could do so.”

Camille nodded, her eyes not averting from the road ahead. She could feel Richard staring at her. She resisted the urge to shot him a quick glance. For the second time, she thought the conversation was over. But she heard Richard sigh.

“So given that I haven’t involved myself with women on this island and I’m not actually dating anyone here, you’re basically saying that I should just go to the party on my own then,” he asked a bit testily now.

“No, of course not. Like I said maman can help you find a date,” this time she couldn’t resist the annoyance escaping from her lips. Sometimes he could be so immature, she thought. Why couldn’t he just say what he meant to say outright?

“But like I said, I don’t want your mother’s help,” he said, raising his voice a little in frustration.

“Then tell me, Richard, what do YOU want to do? What?” her French accent had become thick and demanding as her annoyance grew.

“I would have asked you. But seeing that you were not so thrilled about going to the party in the first place, you would have probably turned me down so I’d rather not ask and just go alone instead,” he ranted all in one breath.

Camille stopped the Defender. They were already in Richard’s beach shack. She quickly turned to face him before he decided to open the door and walked out. “So you would ask me to go with you if the Commissioner chose only one representative for that party? She repeated.

Richard made a dismissive gesture with his hand. He was clearly sulking, trying to hide his deep embarrassment at his outburst. But Camille kept looking at him with her eyebrows raised expectantly.

He looked at her and quickly qualified, “Yes, I mean, I don’t want to go there rubbing elbows on my own. It would be good to have a partner to help with the schmoozing duty. I don’t want to be the only one there providing public relations and such.”

“Richard that’s not what you said and you know it,” Camille pointed out, trying very hard to contain her frustration. She didn’t think she would be this disappointed. But she was and it irked her. “Anyway, why are we talking about a scenario that’s not gonna happen. We are both going to the party anyway.”

“In other words, you’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you. So we might as well make the most of it,” said Richard crankily as he opened the Defender’s door.

“Exactly! Goodnight!” retorted Camille back. She didn’t look at Richard getting out of the vehicle and forcefully closing the door. “Annoying, repressed Englishman,” she muttered as she swung the Defender around to go home.

Richard was equally flustered and extremely annoyed at both himself and Camille. What was he hoping to achieve anyway? To slyly get her to say she was willing to go out with him even without orders from the Commissioner if he asked her. He thought this over as he trudged on the sand to his doorway. Camille was just being pigheaded as usual. So very French. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? It wasn’t rocket science.

He continued this line of thought as he walked in his shack, threw his leather brief case on his bed, took off his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair carefully. He went to grab a cold beer from his fridge and walked out to his veranda. Did she really hate him that much to not want to spend New Year’s Eve with him at a party? Well, hate might be too intense a word, maybe just dislike, his mind reminded him.

He sighed as he took a sip of his beer. With his annoyance tapering off, he did what he does best. He analyzed the exchange between him and Camille earlier. He repeated every word that was said between them and he soon realized that he was the fool. He buried his face in the palm of his hand. “Christ! I’ve made a mess of that conversation, didn’t I, Harry?” Harry just looked at him. “Of course you won’t know anything about it, you weren’t there.”

He sighed again. ‘Why do I manage to make a fool of myself every time I tried to have a proper conversation with her,’ he thought. “It’s because I have no people skills to speak of,” he answered aloud.

He reached for his phone and scrolled through his address book. He stopped at Camille’s number. Was he going to prove to himself that he wasn’t too lacking in people skills and call her to apologize? Or was he going to admit he was wrong in this case and that for the sake of their friendship, he would make amends with her?

All of the above, he thought. He didn’t want to hesitate again in calling her like he did when her friend died and she was hurting. He also didn’t want to say his apologies too late like he did with his ‘thank-yous’ to her. These were all missed opportunities that he let passed by because of his fear and insecurities. So now, he wanted to change his perception of himself and he wanted Camille to know it. Albeit indirectly.

Before he could debate the pros and cons in his head, his thumb automatically pressed Camille’s number. For a second, fear got a hold of him and he fought the immediate urge to stop the call. But he realized it already got through because he heard the first ring on the other line. He tentatively placed the phone on his ear, half expecting Camille wouldn’t pickup and half wishing she would.

Second ring. Third. Fourth. He was getting agitated now. ‘Of course, she won’t answer. She is mad at me,’ he said to himself, clearly feeling defeated. He wondered if he should wait for her to pickup or wait for it to go to voicemail or just stop the call.

If he waited for it to go to voicemail, he would be hard pressed to leave a message and he didn’t really know what to say. If he just stopped the call, he knew the caller ID on Camille’s mobile would register his number and she was bound to call him back. He didn’t know what to say if that happened either. He sighed. He just couldn’t win.

He decided to wait it out and if it went to voicemail, he would just leave a short message. Fifth ring. Six. He readied himself for the voicemail tone and rehearsed what he was going to say in his head. But the voicemail didn’t come on, instead it was Camille’s voice.

“Hello, sir? I’m sorry I didn’t get to the phone right away since I was in the shower. Is anything wrong? Has there been a murder?” she said all at once, professional tone on.

He fumbled his words, a bit guilty for disturbing her during off hours. “No. Everything’s fine. No murder has been reported, at least not at this moment. I would hope,” he said rather nervously. He was really beginning to think this was a bad idea. But he couldn’t back out now. It would be twice in the day that he would make Camille mad at him and he really didn’t want that to happen.

“Ooohh-kaay,” replied Camille on the other line, sounding baffled.

“Um...I was just...ah...” Why was he getting tongue-tied now of all times? But he continued on. “What I meant to say...er...the reason I called is because I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I lost a bit of my temper and I kind of made a mess of the whole conversation. I’m sorry for that.” There he said it. He had proven himself not too arrogant or pompous to apologise for what he had done. He heard Camille sigh on the other line. Was it a good sigh or a bad sigh, he asked himself. He really couldn’t tell because he wasn’t good at these sorts of things.

“It’s all right, Richard. I’m sorry, too. I know sometimes we get into these heated arguments that can be so infuriating. It’s a wonder we haven’t killed each other over it,” she said gently.

“Well, I wouldn’t lay a hand on you even if you pushed me to my limits,” he said quickly.

“I know that. What I’m saying is sometimes we just don’t see the same thing and end up misunderstanding each other. Although I sometimes wish...” she stopped herself before she said something he might misconstrue again.

“Go on. What is it?” Richard urged, clearly wanting to know. He heard her sigh again. This time, he was beginning to feel that it wasn’t a good thing.

Camille was quiet on the other line and Richard thought that she had no intention of continuing. But she cleared her throat as if coming to a big decision that she wished to announce. “I’m saying this to you as a friend and I hope you won’t be offended, all right? It’s just that sometimes I wish you won’t clam up every time you feel embarrass about something you did or said.”

“You see, you tend to...” Camille was grasping for words. She so wanted to speak in French as she felt she could express what she meant better and safer, but Richard would most likely have none of it and he wouldn’t understand a word she would say anyway.

So she continued: “...take back what you said and hide the real meaning of them with bluster and dry humour or irritation. It’s really frustrating when I try to clarify it with you and you just dismiss your own words like you never said anything. I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she sighed again. “I’m sorry I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Richard didn’t say anything. He was contemplating what Camille had said. She was right. There were indeed instances where he had to backtrack from what he said, not to clarify or reiterate the meaning of them, but to actually pretend that he didn’t say anything at all. Or even downplay his real intention.

It was a bad habit and he wasn’t proud of it. It had led to a lot misunderstandings in the past. He berated himself for his lack of self-confidence when it came to dealing with people and handling relationships. It was his turn to sigh inwardly.

“Richard? Are you still there? Look I’m sorry if I said too much. It’s up to you if you want to accept it or not. I’m just stating what I’ve noticed, so it’s all right if you...”

“Camille, you are perfectly correct.”

“I...I am?”

“Yes, you are. You know, I’m not exactly the most communicative person when it comes to feelings and emotions. I take the coward’s route. I backtrack and wish that I hadn’t said anything at all. But of course, I already said it so my next move is to do damage control. And it’s more because of the need to save face and for self-preservation. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you because of it.”

“Richard, there’s no need to apologise again. I’m not really angry. I’m more...”

“Disappointed? I’m disappointed with myself, too. I mean, I know I’ve been doing it for a long time and people just accepted it. So I figured I can always get away with it, you know. Now that someone finally called me out on it, I feel relieved. Embarrassed and regretful. But still hugely relieved.”

“How do you mean exactly?” asked Camille, a bit confused.

“I’m relieved that someone cared enough to want to know what I really want to say,” he said quietly. He was feeling embarrassed now because they were going into the feelings territory. “God, I’m sounding mawkish...”

“No you’re not, Richard. As for your bad habit, you just need to unlearn it by practicing a good habit to replace it like saying what you mean,” said Camille. This man repressed his true words for far too long that he thought people didn’t care anymore. She wished she could give him a hug, but she was sure he would shy away from it.

“I don’t know about that. I seemed to recall telling your mother what I think about her chicken soup and all hell broke lose,” he confessed, cringing at the memory.

“Um, there’s a difference between tactfully saying an honest, well-meaning critique and unleashing a slew of insults that hurt people. Okay?” said Camille, trying to contain her patience. Why did he have to bring that up?

“Yes, I understand. I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he agreed, still embarrassed at having to mention that incident to her again. Way to go at pulling the whole conversation downhill, he berated himself. He had to make amends somehow. “Um, thanks...I really appreciate it...”

“So do you really mean to ask me to the New Year’s Eve party if the Commissioner only assigned you to go to the event?”

“Um...I...Yes that was what I meant. Um, no, what I really wanted to ask was, given that hypothetical situation, would you be willing to go with me as my date to the party?

“Yes, I would.”

He grinned widely. “You would? That’s fantastic, I mean, great. That’s great. Um, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? I mean, I want you to honestly tell me, not because I’m your friend or something like that...”

“Richard!” said Camille forcefully. “You’re over thinking things again. No, I didn’t say yes just because you’re my friend. I said yes because I genuinely wanted to, okay?”

“That’s...that’s good to know,” Richard finally said. He felt shy all of a sudden. How could Camille saying a simple yes brought on so much emotion and quiet joy in his heart.

“Do you feel better?” asked Camille.

“Yes, much, much better,” he admitted honestly.

“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Camille teased on the other line.

He smiled broadly. He was glad they were not doing this face-to-face or he would have lost heart at the very start of it. At least over the phone, Camille wouldn’t see the deep flush of red on his face (he knew he was blushing because he felt the hot flush that invaded his neck quickly creeping up his face).

Also, it would be a bit awkward to have such an intimate conversation when they were alone in his shack. Did he just use the word ‘intimate’? He forced himself to stop acting like a confused, would-be suitor. This was just an exercise to prevent further misunderstanding between him and Camille. It just happened that it started with him wanting to know if she would be his date at the New Year’s Eve party if he asked her. Or was that a front to hide his true intentions. Ugh, he was overthinking things again.

“Richard, are you still there?” Camille asked on the other line.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I was just trying to look at the time. I’m sorry I called you this late. I just didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to straighten things out with you. You know, like what the old adage say, don’t go to bed angry,” he said flippantly. “Um...because that wouldn’t be healthy, right?”

Camille just laughed. She was familiar with the saying and it mostly referred to married couple’s arguments. But she didn’t mention this to Richard. They had both been through enough embarrassment. She just wanted to end this rather nice and revealing phone conversation with him on a positive note.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be healthy and yes, it’s late. But I’m glad you called and I appreciate your gesture of making amends and trying to unlearn bad habits. I think it’s wonderful that you’re making an effort to change it,” she told him sincerely.

“Thank you, Camille,” he said with feeling. “I know I don’t say it to you often enough.”

“You’re welcome, Richard. We only have a couple of more days to prepare for the party so I guess, we have our work cut out for us.”

“Yes, we do. So have a goodnight, Camille,” he said, feeling light hearted.

“You, too, Richard,” she answered as she disconnected the call.

Richard put down the phone absentmindedly. Did he really accomplish what he set out to do? All with one phone call? He amazed himself sometimes. ‘Careful, Poole. Don’t be a humble-braggart,’ he chided himself. He was well aware that he didn’t have neither the courage nor the directness to talk about feelings or emotions of any kind with another human being, let alone with a woman. So this wasn’t his achievement at all.

It was Camille’s. With her, he was open and felt at ease sharing that part of him. He turned this over in his mind as he dressed in his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. He couldn’t believe he was able to admit to her his own disappointment at himself. He was even surprised at hearing his own voice being so honest and straightforward.

What was it that made him do that tonight? He fluttered his eyes as sleep slowly overcame him. But as soon as he closed them, he opened his eyes wide and shouted: “It’s because of her, you stupid fool!” He immediately placed a hand over his mouth, lest his faraway neighbors heard him. Realizing it was unlikely, he smiled to himself. “Yes, I do believe it was because of her.” He closed his eyes, satisfied by that conclusion.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could end this whole thing here. This is a nice ending, isn't it? I could just change the title and get rid of the word 'long-winded' and then I have a short, satisfying (maybe not so much giddy-inducing) fluffy end. What do you think? It really reads like it's done, right? I'm sorry to confuse you. Yes, I still have the other chapters and there's more to this than meets the eye. (I'm a Transformers fan when I was a kid so I'm happy I'm able to insert that iconic phrase here...I know, I'm easily amused). There's so much more to this story, should I post it? Would you like to know what happens next?


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Late afternoon, New Year’s Eve...

Richard found himself scrambling for the last scheduled ferry trip of the day to Guadeloupe. A few minutes or so later, he would have missed the ferry altogether and not make it to the New Year’s Eve party.

It was because of Camille that his pristinely organized day had gone awry. But the bluster and irritation were to hide his obvious disappointment at not being able to go to Guadeloupe together with her. It was bad enough that he was going to a party where he didn’t know anybody but worse still, he might be looking at attending it by himself if she happened to change her mind and bailed on him.

He shook his head. It wouldn’t do to think of the worst case scenario. He had faith in Camille. He knew she wouldn’t let him go by himself, especially if this was an order from the Commissioner. Speaking of that wily old man, he was mostly to blame for why he was heading to Guadeloupe all by his lonesome.

Earlier in the day, the Commissioner gave Camille a mysterious errand, saying it had something to do with the party. He had agreed to let her go since they didn’t really have any pressing case to work on.

Apparently, everyone, including murderers, got to take a New Year’s holiday break except for him! So there it was, no case to keep them busy. Although, he secretly hoped a murder would occur so he and Camille could skip the party. But he immediately felt guilty at the thought, he didn’t really want anyone to get murdered.

Camille was gone most of the morning and he wondered when she was coming back. He received a text from her saying she would no longer come back to the station as the errand that the Commissioner gave her was taking a long time.

‘Where are you anyway?’ he texted back.

‘In Guadeloupe, taking care of the Commissioner’s errand,’ Camille replied.

‘Guadeloupe?! So this is why you said you are going to be out most of the day?’

‘Yes. After the Commissioner’s errand, I have my own errands to attend to. ;-)’

‘So we won’t be going to Guadeloupe together?’ He could just see Camille rolling her eyes at his question. It sounded stupid and needy, he admitted, but he couldn’t seem to let go of the disappointment.

‘Yes.’  She texted back. As if she read his mind, a second one arrived immediately after it: ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you at the hotel later.’

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered as he scowled at his mobile. He didn’t notice he stayed scowling for quite some time until he heard Dwayne warning him that if he continued making a face like that, his face would take on that look permanently.

Fidel couldn’t help but snort-laughed at his joke while Richard narrowed his eyes at Dwayne in disapproval. Perhaps, it was time to make Dwayne alphabetize the case files on New Year’s day.

Anyway, there was no running away now. He was already on a ferry to Guadeloupe and the only thing that could stop him from being at the party would be to throw himself overboard. He really wished Camille was with him on this ride. It would calm his nerves down a little if they both had time to themselves before the ‘schmoozing’ operation.

He wanted to talk with her some more about the phone conversation they had a few nights ago. Not that he wanted to reveal more of his feelings to her, but he was hoping he could segue to inviting her to dinner. Just so he could put her answer to the test. Not that he doubted her, but it was an opportunity to get to know more about her. He felt he owed her that much.

During his first year in Saint Marie, he was so self-centered that he couldn’t see beyond his unfortunate secondment to Saint Marie. He knew he was probably insufferable during that time. He cringed every time he recalled all the things he did and said to his team, to Camille and even to her mother.

Not surprisingly, everyone put up with him without saying a bad word or challenging him to a fistfight outside Catherine’s bar. Well, except for Camille the first time. She would have probably dispatched of him rather quickly given that he was not really adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Yet little by little, he saw how his team welcomed him and gave him the respect and sense of belonging he had always longed for at the Met. Over there, nobody gave a damn about him, they even threw a party when he was gone (yes, he knew about it, he clearly heard the merriment in the background when he called his Guv the day he landed on Saint Marie).

Such was their animosity toward him that he really didn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore. Given a choice, he would never want to be reassigned there ever. Those ‘people’ were not his people. A huge contrast really to what he had in Saint Marie. Here, he had a team who considered him as their colleague and friend.

How could he had been so lucky despite his prickly and pedantic personality? He thought that he wouldn’t find any fulfillment in his professional life but here he was a detective inspector who got to solve crimes and work with people he actually liked. The weather may not agree with him and the sand and the insects were inconveniences, but for the first time in his life, he looked forward to getting up in the morning and going to work.

As for his personal life, he really hadn’t given it much thought. He had enough heartbreak that could last him a lifetime. So he really didn’t want to get involved with love anymore. It was a nice feeling when he had it but when it was gone it was cruel and unmerciful.

Perhaps, a life partner wasn’t for him. The first time in a decade he mustered the courage to ask a woman out, he was finally given a positive answer. But before an actual date could happen, the woman got murdered. If he believed in omens and such, he would have said he was unlucky. Thankfully, he didn’t. He was a logical and realistic man, after all.     

Camille, on the other hand, was a different woman altogether. She was a frightful tempest, hurtling everything and everyone in her wake. She was a force to reckon with and it took all his faculties just to protect himself. They had a rather complicated relationship.

Yet he found he trusted her more than anyone. He had to admit more than once that her abilities complemented his skills. Her ease with dealing with people served as a buffer to his blunt, often tactless interrogation tactics. Through their partnership, they were able to solve crime ‘puzzles’ together.

But lately, it was getting harder and harder to keep her at arm’s length. He was beginning to open up to her more, finding the idea not so averse despite his reserve and reticence. He found he liked spending time with her despite admitting to her once that he liked his own company.

He was acutely aware of all her efforts to include him in everything the team did beyond work. Frankly, he found it an inconvenience at first. He wasn’t used to being part of the group. But somehow, through her patience and persistent ways, she managed to draw him out and made him a participant.

Little by little, she started invading his thoughts and even his way of life. How did that woman get close to him? Perhaps, he allowed it. He found himself harbouring a feeling for her. What was it? He hadn’t figured it out or maybe he just refused to acknowledge it. But the phone conversation triggered something that he either need to put a stop to or let it follow its course. He hadn’t made a decision yet.

He sighed. This was why he hated traveling by himself. He had a tendency to think things through in his head. If Camille was with him, she would blabber on with the most mundane things and he wouldn’t mind. Not that he cared about small talk, but it kept him rooted to the present. She did a very good job of that. Damn, why did everything circle back to her?

He looked out to sea and became wistful at the thought. Of course, everything circle back to her, including him. She had drawn him in even if he did everything he could to stay away. But he knew in his heart that resistance was futile. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, because he found he was in love with her.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Meanwhile at the hotel in Guadeloupe...

Camille was hanging Richard’s black tuxedo on the door of the wardrobe. She was able to gain entry to Richard’s hotel room by flashing her badge and declaring she was delivering her detective inspector’s tuxedo for the Embassy party tonight. It also helped that she was carrying the evidence in a transparent garment bag for all to see. 

She carefully dusted off the shoulders and picked lint off the suit. She hoped it would fit him. When the Commissioner called the station this morning, she was surprised he had asked Richard to borrow her for a couple of hours to run an errand for him.

Richard didn’t seem to mind although there was a momentary reluctance etched on his face when he passed the phone to her. She just shrugged at him, they weren’t really busy with a murder case anyway.

“Bordey here, sir,” she said in greeting.

Richard stole a glance her way, trying to glean what the phone conversation was all about. For a minute, he entertained the idea that the party was postponed and that he and Camille would no longer need to go. He rejoiced at the thought but felt a pang of disappointment at the same time.

“Alright, sir. I understand,” Camille finally said as she put down the receiver.

“So what was that all about?” Richard enquired, trying not to sound suspicious.

“It’s a logistical errand for the Embassy party tonight,” she said casually.

“Logistical errand? What is it, exactly?”

“I have no idea. The Commissioner wanted me to go to government house so he could give me the instructions in person,” said Camille in a long-suffering tone. “I don’t know why he couldn’t just relay it to me over the phone.” She sighed. She placed her bag on her shoulder.

“I see,” he said, feeling sorry for Camille. “Um, could you text me when you’re done. You know, just so I could keep tabs on where my team members are and that sort of thing.”

Camille smiled and nodded. It was just like Richard to want to be kept in the loop. When would he ever relax and just go with the flow, she asked herself. Maybe never. If she allowed herself to think deeper into what he said, she would have thought he was worried about her not going with him to the party. But she dismissed it, she had a covert mission to do.

The taxi finally came to a stop at Richard’s beach shack. She didn’t know why she went along with the Commissioner’s inane plan. When he called the station and talked to her, he began by saying, “There’s a bit of a problem.” It took all her willpower to not show her concern because she knew Richard was secretly watching her and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“The contact person who is set to deliver the Inspector’s tuxedo won’t make it in time for the party,” the Commissioner said. “Now don’t worry I have a backup plan. You don’t have to answer me as I know if the Inspector got wind of the situation, he would be relieved to not be going.”

How did the man know what she was thinking, she thought but just said, “Yes, sir.”

“I know a place where to get a tuxedo in Guadeloupe at short notice. But they would need the Inspector’s measurements. So you could either ask him directly and run the risk of being questioned by him,” paused the Commissioner. “...or you could find a way to get to his closet and measure his suit. You know I do not encourage trespassing but desperate times call for desperate measures. So let’s just think of this as doing undercover work on my orders. I will text you the details of the tuxedo place and you will have to go to Guadeloupe immediately after.”

Camille couldn’t say or do anything. It was clearly an absurd plan but she couldn’t blurt that out loud. First, it was the Commissioner’s idea. Second, if Richard found out he had nothing to wear to the New Year’s Eve party, he would most likely throw a party of his own for getting out of attending it. 

This would leave her to shoulder the responsibility of doing the PR work alone. She really didn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve in the company of uptight English people. She already had the ‘privilege’ of spending most of the year with one and that was enough for her.

Surely Richard wouldn’t abandon her, right? She quickly dismissed the thought, he could and he would. If that happened, she would drag him to the party in his usual woolen suit, not caring if he looked out-of-place or looked like a bodyguard.

She massaged her forehead in frustration. She already made a choice and lied to Richard about it earlier. She hoped her little ruse would keep him from being suspicious. There was no backing out now.

She would get into his house (not that it was difficult to do since she was able to do it once), go through his wardrobe and get the measurements. Then, she would pick up her overnight bag back at her place and ride the ferry to Guadeloupe to solve Richard’s tuxedo issue. She sighed. This wasn’t how she planned her day.

She wanted to do a half day’s work and then go to Guadeloupe ahead of Richard to prepare for the party. She knew he wouldn’t like it. But she would insist on it because a special occasion deserved special preparation. It may be a party among people they don’t know, it may be that they were just there as officials to strengthen Saint Marie’s presence, but for Camille it was the first non-date event she would have with Richard. And she was really looking forward to it.

But here she was in Richard’s bungalow, rummaging through his wardrobe. She found his suit trousers and quickly did the measurements. Next, she moved on to his dress shirt and a spare suit jacket. She knew these wouldn’t be accurate measurements but she could help the place choose the approximate size for Richard. She had been working closely with him long enough that she was confident she could give them his right size.

After she was done, she carefully put everything in place, making sure she didn’t disturb anything that he may notice. She started a little when Harry jumped up on a table and looked at her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But I’m just getting Richard’s measurements. Don’t tell him I was here, okay?” she whispered, feeling weird about talking to Richard’s lizard.

She quietly closed the door behind her and made sure she placed the lock in its rightful place. She covered her tracks on the sand as she walked away. Now all she needed to do was to head to her place and get her overnight bag. After dealing with Richard’s tuxedo, she had her own errands to run. She would just text Richard when she arrived in Guadeloupe.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Richard arrived at the hotel a little after 4pm. The dinner party wasn’t until 8pm, so he had time to get ready and maybe take a quick nap. He was feeling a bit tired after the ferry ride.

“Here you go, Detective Inspector Poole,” said the receptionist as he slid an electronic key toward him.

“Um, has Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey checked in yet?” he asked, feeling quite happy with the hotel’s central air conditioning. Oh how he missed such modern convenience. It wasn’t the first time he wished he lived in a hotel instead of a rundown hothouse of a shack by the beach.

“Let’s see. Yes, sir. She checked in at 3pm,” said the receptionist. “She asked to be let in your room so she could drop off your tuxedo earlier.”

“Oh?” Richard said as he quickly realized maybe that was Camille’s errand this morning.  He said a hurried ‘thank you’ to the receptionist and went to his hotel room.

‘I’m already at the hotel. I’ll take a quick kip before getting ready. Text me when you get a chance,’ he texted Camille. He wondered where she was or if she was in her hotel room. He contemplated dropping by her room to thank her for picking up his tuxedo but changed his mind. ‘I’ll just call her later,’ he thought as he went to his room.

The room was luxuriously furnished with soft sheets on a king-sized bed and gleaming white towels in the bathroom. He sighed with satisfaction. ‘I guess it’s not so bad to be attending the New Year’s Eve party with these add-on perks,’ he said to himself. He set his phone alarm and quickly took off his jacket, tie, and dress shirt.

He climbed on the big, soft bed, relishing the soft cotton sheets under him. He was going to enjoy sleeping on this bed, especially when there were no stifling heat and irritating sand to contend with or bloodsucking insects or free-range chickens making their early morning call.

His eyes landed on the black tuxedo hanging on the wardrobe door. He wished the Commissioner would have just asked him to get it instead of having Camille do it. She was not his assistant, she was his colleague.

Even if he had seniority, he wouldn’t dream of letting her do tasks that were not about investigating a crime. It would simply be inappropriate and unethical. What was the Commissioner even thinking, he huffed. He made a mental note to thank Camille for getting it as he drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Camille just woke up from her own nap. She inspected her New Year’s Eve Party dress that was hanging on her wardrobe door. She almost paid a fortune to have it shipped from Paris but it was a good thing her former clothing contact was just too happy to send it to her for free at such short notice.

She was secretly thankful that she maintained her connections in Paris where she used to work undercover or she would have a difficult time finding a new dress in Guadeloupe that day. The Commissioner’s errand took a while, so she only managed to go to a salon to have her nails done and buy a pair of comfortable, strappy high-heeled sandals to go with the dress.

She was quite tired after the running around and decided to take a quick nap. She didn’t want to look haggard or tired for a late night party. It was also important that she looked her best so she could do her job confidently.

Knowing Richard’s propensity to put his foot in his mouth, the ‘schmoozing’ operation would likely require quite a bit of damage control as well. She sighed she wanted to just spend time with him throughout the night but that probably wouldn’t happen because they would need to socialize and mingle with the other guests.

She looked at her phone and was surprised when she saw Richard’s text message. ‘So he finally arrived,’ she thought and wondered if she should go to his hotel room to see how he was settling in. She stopped herself. ‘He’s a grown man. He could take care of himself. I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s attended a black tie affair. I’ll just call him when we’re both ready to go to the party.’

She looked at the time again and realized she still had time to have a luxurious bath in her room’s oh-so-luxurious tub before the hairdresser arrives. This was what she missed when she was doing undercover work. Being able to stay in 5-star hotels and enjoy the amenities that come with it made the job worthwhile. Granted it wasn’t always glamorous, more often than not she would be billeted in dingy motels. But when it was, all expenses would be damned just to ensure that her cover was rock solid.

She started the water going in the tub and went back to the bed to retrieve her phone and send a reply to Richard’s text.

‘So what’s a quick kip? ;-) I’m in my room resting. I’ll meet you at the lobby around 7:30-ish? We could go to the ballroom together.’

Camille would have stayed in the bath for another half hour if not for her hairdresser appointment. She had requested a hairdresser to come to her hotel room to help style her hair and that would be in about an hour.

She contemplated on having her hair down and not bother styling it but as the party was an official affair, she didn’t think it would be appropriate for the occasion and for her dress. So she decided to get it styled. She usually did it herself but she didn’t want to spend too much time fussing on her own hair while she was getting ready. 'Better leave it to the professional,' she said to herself.

It was already 6pm. She wondered what Richard was doing as she poured herself a cup of coffee. He would probably be having a cup of tea, she smiled at the thought. Well, they still had enough time before the party. It was a good thing, the Embassy had decided to hold it in the hotel’s grand ballroom. She wondered if Richard would be disappointed again because the party wasn’t exactly on Embassy grounds.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Richard’s phone alarm went off. It took him a while to reach for it and tap it to snooze. He pulled the covers over him, intending to sleep some more. But all of a sudden, he sat up and stared at his surroundings in confusion. Where in the bloody hell was he?

He rubbed his eyes until realization slowly came to him. He was in a luxury hotel in Guadeloupe. He saw his tuxedo hanging on the wardrobe door. Ah yes, the New Year’s Eve party. He sighed and here he thought he could go back to the most restful sleep he had ever had since he arrived in the Caribbean.

With a groan, he reached for his mobile again and looked at the time, 6:30pm. He read Camille’s text and frowned. Didn’t she want to meet up beforehand? They could use some sort of a rehearsal for the PR work they would be doing. He texted her back.

‘Very funny. I know you know what a kip means. I just woke up. I’ll be getting ready. Don’t you want to meet earlier, so we could go through proper procedure or something?’

He was pouring himself a cup of tea when he heard the text notification on his mobile.

‘You’re the funny one. Procedure? It’s a party, Richard, not a crime scene. We’ll be fine. So relax and get ready. I’ll meet you at around 7:30 in the lobby, I need time to get ready.’

He rolled his eyes at her text reply. He supposed she was right, it was only a party what could possibly go wrong? Except maybe him accidentally insulting the British consul or some other government official to the detriment of the Royal Saint Marie Police Force. He thought it would be best to keep his mouth shut and let Camille do most of the charming talk.

‘Right. I’ll see you at around 7:30 in the lobby. Please don’t be late. This being a British function, I’m sure they would want people to be there promptly to serve dinner at 8:00 sharp.’

He sipped his tea leisurely, waiting for Camille’s reply. When he noticed no message was forthcoming (she was probably in the throes of getting ready), he decided to head to the shower. He was sure he was going to enjoy it since the water pressure would be a heavenly gush instead of a measly trickle.

After the shower, he lined up his toiletries on the bathroom counter intent on doing things methodically and thoroughly. His fastidious self going overdrive because of his long-held notion that in a formal event one was required to appear aptly put together.

If he was being honest with himself, he secretly wanted to impress Camille and show her that he could look ‘different’ in another suit other than his usual woolen ones. He wanted to say, ‘dashing,’ but that would be quite vain of him. He knew he wasn’t handsome, he was just an average looking but well-groomed chap.

He turned his attention to the black tuxedo hanging on the wardrobe door. He hadn’t worn one since his university days. A wave of nostalgia caught him off guard. Those were the best and worst days of his life, a time when he found love and got wounded by it. He wondered if he would experience something similar someday. Love, of course, not the wounded part. But he doubted any woman would want to be with him except maybe...his hands suddenly fumbled with his bow tie. What was he thinking? As if, he had a chance.

But he wanted to resolve something tonight. This feeling of being in limbo was getting to him. He had enough of alternately pining for her and pushing her away. He knew he would be the last person to take such risks but for his peace of mind and maybe hers, he was willing to take it. Surely, their friendship would be resilient enough to...his hands fumbled again.

He sighed. Maybe he should just stay quiet and forget about the whole thing altogether. It wasn’t worth losing his friendship with her. Besides, he couldn't live with the embarrassment if she happened to not like him back, making their working relationship awkward for both of them. He sighed. Yes, that would be a more logical course of action—pretend he had no feelings for her and endure it. This time, his hands had successfully done up his tie. He looked at himself in the mirror, quite satisfied.

He looked at the time in his wristwatch. It was already a little past 7pm. Just about right, he thought. He sent a text to Camille.

‘I’m going to the lobby. I’ll wait for you there. Please try not to be late.’

He walked toward the door. But just as he was about to step outside, he came back to retrieve the gilded invitation on top of the night stand. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and let out an involuntary gulp. He straightened his tie. 'Come on, Poole, no need to be nervous. It's just a party. Camille will be there.' He felt fearful and excited at the prospect. He willed himself to focus by slowly letting out a breath, then he gave the room one more sweep with his eyes, mentally checking if he had forgotten anything else. He didn’t, so he stepped out and quietly closed the door behind him.

\--------o0o--------

Camille applied the finishing touches to her makeup. She usually wear little when doing police work or sometimes none at all. The blazing sun in Saint Marie wasn’t forgiving of it. But on this special occasion, where the event was indoors and every one would be dressed to the nines, she wanted to make sure her appearance would be appropriate.

The hairdresser did a wonderful job of styling her hair. It was swept up with a braid running around the bun. It was lovely and elegant. She marveled at the amount of bobby pins holding it all in place. She didn’t think she would be able to do something like it if she had decided to tackle her hair on her own.

She put on her dress, accessorizing it with a pair of inconspicuous diamond drop earrings in gold and a matching thin gold bangle (care of her maman’s jewelry stash) on her left wrist. She hoped that Richard would be stunned speechless by her look. It was, indeed, quite a departure from her usual attire in Saint Marie.

Of course, he never saw her in a formal dress. There were only three occasions he saw her in a dress, two of them were heartbreaking, one was on Erzulie night when she thought he was her date and the other was on the night her friend Aimee was murdered. Both were heartbreaking events for her, so she didn’t think they counted much in catching his attention.

While she favored a more relaxed and casual clothing in Saint Marie, she admitted it wasn’t always her norm. In Paris, she dressed smartly because the culture over there was different. But in her home island where she knew most of the people, she could dress however way she wanted as long as it wasn’t indecent. Her style had always been more practical, comfortable and casual.

Richard probably disapproved of the way she dressed. He was always harping about the need to maintain a respectable image as persons of authority. She feigned agreement and would sometimes indulge him by wearing a skirt or a collared top. But most of the time, she let his lecture fly over her head. This was the Caribbean, people here care more about your character than your outward appearance.

Still, she wished that there were more opportunities for him to see her dress to the nines or at least, looking a bit polished or sophisticated. But the familiar feeling of pride welled up inside her. ‘Why would it matter?’ She asked herself. ‘I’m a capable police officer and that’s more important than the way I dress.’

Anyway, she was here to act as one of the Commissioner's representatives and not to play dress up for Richard. Although she had to admit it was nice to be going to a party with him and she felt flattered that Richard had wanted to ask her to be his date if the Commissioner needed only one of them to attend the event.

She wondered if he liked her or not. The phone conversation they had a few nights ago indicated that he seemed to have feelings for her. But she couldn’t really gauge which was bluster and which was truth with him, especially when he had a tendency to retreat within himself and not let his true feelings show.

‘Why is he such an impossible man,’ she thought. ‘I really wished he would make up his mind so that we can get out of this purgatory of a relationship.’ But how about her? Were her feelings for him real? She knew he wasn’t just a passing fancy. He was important to her that was certain. She even made every effort to get close to him and be his friend. But now, what did she want? A romantic relationship with him?

She suddenly dropped the strappy high-heeled sandal she was going to wear. ‘I do. But maybe that’s just a false expectation. If I tell him how I feel and he rejected me, I know I can still work with him but the question is, would he be comfortable working with me,’ she said to herself glumly. She didn’t know which made her sadder, the thought that he wasn’t interested in her or the thought that he would be uncomfortable working with her if she hypothetically confessed to him. It would also spell the end of their friendship.

“Ah whatever,” she said out loud as she picked up the shoe and placed it on her foot. “What will be, will be.” Tonight she would just enjoy the party and celebrate the end of the year in his company. Besides, they would have a new year to sort these confusing feelings out one way or another.

She stood up and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress had always been one of her favorites among the ones she wore during her undercover days in Paris. She was thankful her clothing contact kept it for her. It was a floor-length, plunging neckline black dress with an open back. The figure hugging number was styled with sparkling gold threads outlining the v-neck bodice and waist that continued to the wide shoulder straps. Its modified A-line silhouette moved just right with every swing of her hips. 

She glanced at her phone to check the time, 7:15pm. She saw Richard’s new text message and just rolled her eyes. Richard really couldn’t resist being a stickler for punctuality. It wasn’t like the venue was in another island.

She looked around for her studded black clutch and placed her mobile in it. “I guess. This is it,” she said out loud as she took one last look at herself in the mirror.

She didn’t know why she was feeling nervous all of a sudden. It wasn’t like this was her first time going to a party. It was probably the thought of meeting Richard and seeing him looking at her in this outfit. “Come on, Camille. You look fine. Enjoy the evening,” she told her reflection in the mirror. With that, she walked out the door to meet him.

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Richard sat on one of the lounge chairs in the lobby. There were already a lot of well-dressed people mingling about the area, women in elegant gowns and men in black tuxedos. He wondered how many people were going to the party. It wasn’t like the hotel had a big ballroom like the hotels in London. Some of them were already holding drinks in their hands as they moved toward the venue.

He craned his neck to see if Camille was among the crowd flowing in. He resisted the urge to text her again. He really didn’t want to appear anxious but he kept his eyes open in case he missed her walking in.

When a huge group of chattering people arrived, he thought he caught sight of her behind them. He did a double take because he wasn’t sure if it was her or not. But it was her, looking resplendent in her long, black dress. She walked in confidently with her head held high and eyes scanning the lobby area. He stood up instinctively and watched her with mouth slightly agape.

For a moment, he stood there just gazing at her until Camille saw him. Briefly, their eyes met and then Camille gave him a bright smile while he remembered how to breathe. She walked toward him whilst he remained rooted to the spot. When she was standing right in front of him, he finally found his voice: “Good god, Camille, you looked absolutely beautiful.”

She gave him a shy smile. It was the second time he gave her that kind of compliment. She tried to hide her elation. “And you, Richard, you look quite handsome and dapper in that tuxedo. It looks good on you and fits you perfectly well.”

Richard gave her a small smile in return. He could feel a hot flush around his neck. So he did his head swing thing when he got flustered. He tried not to stare at her for too long. He quickly noticed how dangerously low the cut of her neckline was. He resisted the urge to swallow hard when he caught a glimpse of her smooth breast bone and the teasing mounds on either side of it. His hand instinctively went for his bow tie to adjust it but he caught himself.

“Um, shall we head to the ballroom?” he said, managing not to croak. He wasn’t sure if he should offer her his arm or just guide her by placing his hand at the small of her back. He did the latter and he almost froze when he realized his hand rested on her bare back. He chewed the inside of his lip to stop himself from gasping audibly.

Camille, on the other hand, was enjoying how flustered Richard looked. She started a little when he placed his hand on her back, gently guiding her. She would like to think that he was doing it to let other people know that she was with him. She so wanted to tease him for it but knew that if she did, he would instantly take his hand off her and would try to avoid touching her all evening.

“Have you got the invite?” she asked instead as they stood by the ballroom’s entrance.

“Yes, I got it in my jacket pocket,” he replied confidently. “Um, there seemed to be a lot of people attending this party. How are we going to know who amongst them are the important ones?”

“Don’t worry about that. I know some of the VIPs here. You seemed to have forgotten that I used to work in Guadeloupe,” Camille answered as they move quickly inside the ballroom. They lingered on the side to admire the decor and to watch the throngs of people coming in.

The ballroom had a high ceiling from which hung shimmering streamers, buntings and black and gold balloons. The dining tables were decorated with the same motif. The dance floor took up more of the ballroom with a DJ setup, playing jazz standard songs on a stage at the front. They both stood there admiring the festive mood.

“How could I forget, you just reminded me about it. Well, it’s probably why the Commissioner asked you to attend the party, too,” Richard said out of the blue as he intercepted a waiter with a tray full of champagne glasses and took two glasses.

“Oh I thought it was to stop you from committing serious faux pas that would give our police force a bad name,” said Camille with a straight face, graciously taking a glass of champagne from him.

Richard’s facial expression turned serious as if he had been found out. He took a rather huge sip of the bubbly.

“Relax. The Commissioner didn’t order me to keep an eye on you because of it. He just wanted to make sure that you meet some important people whose invaluable support are quite helpful to our small police force,” reassured Camille as she took a slow sip of her own glass.

“I see. Well, I don’t mind having you with me. At least, there would be someone lovely to charm our way out in case I DO commit any social gaffe.” He grimaced as he remembered his encounter with the organizer of a charity event to save the marine reserve. He recalled disparaging the poor man’s wine and seafood.

“Someone lovely?” Camille asked him, teasing tone evident in her voice.

“Well, yeah...you,” Richard said, getting a bit flustered again. He knew Camille was trying to rile him up with that comment but he went on anyway. Probably because of the sudden influx of champagne in his system. “I mean, you’re one of the most beautiful women here.”

“Oh that’s twice you’ve called me beautiful,” said Camille, eyes looking at him coquettishly. “If I didn’t know better, Inspector, you’re...”

“Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey!” called a loud voice from the ballroom’s entrance. Both detectives spun around to see a rather tall and imposing woman, about the same age as Commissioner Patterson, walking toward them. Her sparkly, flowy dress swished with her every purposeful stride. She was a handsome, French-Creole woman with perfectly coiffed white hair and a very welcoming smile. 

Camille smiled happily back at her. “Commissioner Picot. So glad to see you again.” 

Both women hugged and kissed each other in greeting. “You look stunning, Camille. Selwyn informed me that you’ll be here at the party tonight. I’m so happy I was able to see you before the crowd gets big and rowdy.”

“You look quite spectacular yourself, Commissioner,” she replied. “Oh Commissioner Picot, may I introduce you to our Chief of Police, Detective Inspector Richard Poole,” Camille said. "Inspector, Guadeloupe Police Commissioner Sabine Picot."

“Enchante, Commissioner Picot,” said Richard as he shook the lady commissioner’s hand, earning him an approving look from Camille.

“Oh I heard a lot about you, Inspector Poole. It seems Saint Marie’s police force has gotten itself a brilliant leader heading a very hardworking crime fighting team,” commented Commissioner Picot, clearly impressed.

“Not at all, Commissioner. It’s because my team consists of already very talented people who complement each other’s skills and make my job easy,” answered Richard smoothly, earning another approving nod from Camille.

“Of course, they are. Especially this one right here,” said Commissioner Picot, nodding in Camille’s direction. “She’s a smart detective and I fought Selwyn tooth and nail to keep her here in Guadeloupe and work for me. But she’s too loyal to Saint Marie and Selwyn.” 

She turned suddenly to Camille and said, “Oh but I heard you didn’t like working with the Inspector at first, Camille. Now why didn’t you just sail off here that time? You know, I would have welcomed you with open arms.”

Richard knotted his brows. He didn’t know Camille had the option of going back to Guadeloupe to work for Commissioner Picot. If she had decided to take that offer, she wouldn’t have worked with him and they wouldn’t be at this party together. It was an unsettling thought he didn’t want to think about.

Camille smiled sweetly at the commissioner. She liked Sabine Picot, she considered the older woman a role model since she had achieved an incredible feat, that of being the only woman police commissioner in the whole of the Caribbean. 

But she also knew that if she had chosen to work for Commissioner Picot, it would put a dent on the long time friendship and political relationship between the lady commissioner and Commissioner Patterson. She would hate to be the cause of such discord.

“Commissioner, you know that I have no choice on the matter. Commissioner Patterson already turned in the paperwork to make sure it was signed, sealed and delivered before he announced anything to either of us,” Camille said graciously.

“Oh I know, dear. He’s one sly old fox, that one,” Commissioner Picot sighed in an exaggerated manner. “But he always has a keen eye for talents anda very good sense at bringing brilliant people together when he sees their potential.” 

Both Richard and Camille smiled at each other and felt themselves blush a little at the obvious compliment. 

“I have a wonderful idea. Why don’t you both join me at my table? We have some important people sitting over there. Let’s see the British Consul, maybe the prefect or a politician or two. Anyway, don’t worry I’ll introduce them to you,” winked Commissioner Picot as she herded both detectives to a table that was at the front and center of the hall. 

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Richard was a bit apprehensive about the invitation. A logical part of him agreed with the arrangement as it would be easier for him and Camille to hobnob with important people without having to find them in the crowd. But the secret introvert in him felt uncomfortable at having to eat dinner in such a centrally exposed table. 

Seeing his look of hesitation, Camille gave his arm a quick squeeze of reassurance as she nodded her head. She wanted to tell him that he need not worry because they were not going to be the center of attention. In parties like this one, the VIPs were usually the ones in the limelight. That, and any entertainment numbers (if they happen to be good).

They reached the table, which was still empty. However, there were people mingling around it. Commissioner Picot approached a very distinguished looking man and woman at the center of a group of people conversing politely.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. James. How lovely to see you. I must say the British consulate has done a very good job at organizing such a successful black tie affair. It looks quite festive and lavish in here,” said Commissioner Picot, obviously accustomed to dealing with VIPs.

“Commissioner Picot, how are you? Yes, I’ve commended our staff for such a wonderful event. Though I must say that Jessica had lent them a hand in giving us all these,” the tall man with grey hair and a slight tan said, making a sweeping gesture toward the decor.

“Oh it was just a bit of guidance, darling. Nothing spectacular but I’m really hoping everyone invited will have a good time. It’s New Year’s eve, after all. Isn’t that right, Sabine?” answered a classic beauty of a woman with auburn hair and pale, blue eyes, standing beside him. She was quite an English rose.

“Quite right, Jessica. We seldom do a black tie party in the Caribbean. But having the British consulate host one here in Guadeloupe is a privilege indeed,” agreed the Commissioner smoothly. “So I’m sure everyone will enjoy it.”

Richard and Camille gave each other sideway glances. They were quite impressed by how diplomatic Commissioner Picot was and how she managed to be on first name basis with important people. She could give Commissioner Patterson a run for his money.

“Oh my, where are my manners? I’m sorry. Mr. and Mrs. James, may I introduce to you Honore’s Chief of Police, Detective Inspector Richard Poole, accompanied by Honore’s equally skilled Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey. Inspector Poole and Sergeant Bordey, this is Mr. Patrick James, the British Consul based here in Pointe-a-Pietre, and his lovely wife, Jessica.”

“I’m glad both of you could come. I was a bit disappointed when I heard that Commissioner Patterson won’t be coming but I can see now that he’d chosen his representatives well. I’ve heard a lot about Honore’s police team,” said the British consul after they exchanged greetings.

“I hope that they’re good things, sir,” replied Richard with an air of formality.

“Oh don’t worry, they are. By the way, do you know Assistant Commissioner Henry Mayne from the Metropolitan Police,” referring to a rather official-looking man, who just arrived at their table. “Henry, you’ve heard of Inspector Poole, who was seconded to the Royal Saint Marie Police Force not so long ago.”

Richard was a bit surprised that the third top brass of the Met had attended a party in the Caribbean. He wondered if he was here to audit British territory police stations. He was immediately forming a checklist in his head.

“Um, I know Assistant Commissioner Mayne but I believe I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting him back in London,” he said, shaking the older man’s hand. He was the same age as the consul but shorter and stockier in built, sporting a well-groomed mustache. He gave Richard a shrewd look.

“Poole, yes, I’ve heard. Don’t worry, I’m not here on official Met business. I’m just a guest of Patrick and Jessica here on a Caribbean holiday. They’re old college friends of mine, you see,” he declared as he gave the older couple a grin. “Also, I just wanted to escape the bleak winter weather in London.”

“Ah yes, sir, this is the perfect place to go to do just that.” He didn’t want to elaborate further as he felt aghast at how someone would want to spend time in the island heat when it was most comfortable to be in such cold weather. He wondered if the man would last in the balmy Caribbean air outside, away from the air-conditioned ballroom. But he dismissed the thought when he noticed the Assistant Commissioner looking pointedly at Camille.

“Sir, this is Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey,” said Richard stiffly. Was this old man ogling her?

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, DS Bordey,” said the assistant commissioner, taking her hand and kissing it. “Forgive me, if I’m blatantly ogling. You are positively the most radiant woman I’ve seen in this party.” 

Camille smiled graciously but gave Richard an imperceptible side eye as if telling him, ‘At least someone is honest enough to admit to ogling me.’ He pursed his lips into a tight line in answer to her seeming reproof.

“Really, Henry,” chastised Mrs. James as she and Commissioner Picot finished their conversation and went back to the group. “You say that to all the women you were introduced to here at the party. It’s time to retire that line, especially if you’ve used it on a fellow police officer...”

She was going to say more when a staff from the consulate requested the guests to go to their seats because dinner would be served promptly. Richard looked at Camille smugly. He was right. She crinkled her nose at him in response.

The VIPs went to their respective seats. Richard was going to pull a seat for Camille but she quickly gave him a significant look and inclined her head to Commissioner Picot on his left. For a second, he looked at her, confused. But he quickly cottoned on.

Having worked together for quite some time, they had developed their own kind of communication through eye contact. At first, he found it disconcerting because he sometimes misinterpret what she wanted to say. But soon, he got accustomed to it and marveled at how they were able to understand each other through mere glances. Though more often than not, he would just get lost gazing at her intense brown eyes. Not that he would admit that to her.

He nodded in understanding as he quickly pulled out a chair for Commissioner Picot. “Thank you, Inspector. You’re such a gentleman,” was the response he got in return.

He turned to Camille and pulled a seat for her. She gave him another approving look and a little smile that did funny things to his insides. He straightened his bow tie and sat in between the two women.

He finally noticed that a string orchestra of 12 musicians had occupied the dance floor as they started playing. He didn’t think they would be heard given the amount of chatter ensuing from the dining tables. But it seemed most of the people went politely quiet to hear their performance.

The Commissioner continued to point out to them (as discreetly as she could) important people, sitting in different tables, a couple of chiefs of police from different towns, several politicians and heads of charity organizations.

Richard’s head swirled at all the names being mentioned. He didn’t think his brain could process all the information. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember what their names were, it was more about having to meet and greet them that he found taxing. And he thought he was going to have a nice end of the year celebration with Camille. Hang on, where did that thought come from, he asked himself.

Camille, on the other hand, seemed to have noticed his changing mood. She touched his arm to get his attention and he leant closer to her to hear what she wanted to say.

“Relax. Don’t worry too much. We don’t have to meet them all. It’s not like we’re asking for financial support for Saint Marie. We’re here to just make our presence known,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded absentmindedly.

His reaction wasn’t enough for Camille, so she reached for his hand under the table, held it and gave it a squeeze, intending to do it quickly. But Richard wrapped his fingers around hers, as if not wanting to let go. He lingered at holding her hand and then gave it a squeeze before releasing it.

* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, quick note to thank you for following this story, for leaving comments and for the kudos. I hope you like how it's developing so far. If you've noticed Richard has become OOC (out-of-character) in this, that's intentional. I'm experimenting on pushing some of the boundaries of his canon character. Expect Camille to be a bit OOC, too. They're a pair, after all. So a change in one has a ripple effect on the other. As always, happy reading! ;-)

* * *

Dinner was mostly polite and uneventful, in which Richard was thankful. He really didn’t want to converse with people with food in his mouth or answer a question in the middle of chewing. Of course, Commissioner Picot chatted away incessantly. He marveled at how she managed to look dignified while still eating her food. And Camille was no different. He just managed to look at them and hoped that his nods were in the right places.

After the meal, Commissioner Picot excused herself from the table when she caught sight of someone she knew in another table.

“Gentlemen and Mrs. James, I’ll be back shortly. I just saw someone I really must have a word with,” she said standing up, clearly amused that as she did so all three British men stood up with her. “Inspector Poole, I’ll borrow DS Bordey for a moment.”

Commissioner Picot’s words were neither a request nor asking for permission, it sounded more like an order. So Richard just nodded mutely. He gave Camille a look as she stood up to go with the older woman.

“I want you to meet someone and he’s single, by the way,” whispered the Commissioner to Camille, which didn’t escape Richard’s ears despite the general chatter of the people in the party. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He liked Sabine Picot but playing matchmaker for Camille had slightly lessened his respect for her.

She was acting like a second Catherine Bordey, for god’s sake. He wondered glumly if that bloke she was talking about would want to dance with Camille tonight. He bet there would be other blokes in the party, including the Met’s assistant commissioner, who wanted to dance with her.

“So I hear, you’ve done good work in Saint Marie, Inspector. Your police department’s crime resolution rate is quite impressive. You deserve a commendation for all your hard work,” said the British consul.

“On the contrary, sir, it’s not just my hard work. The team I belonged to contributed a lot to that high rate. They are the ones who deserve the commendation, especially for putting up with someone like me who knows nothing about how things work on the island,” pointed out Richard. “As I see it, you can’t solve crimes on your own, you need a team to do it. I’m lucky to be working with them.”

“Back in London, one or two detectives can solve a crime,” balked Assistant Commissioner Mayne.

“Henry, you make it sound like that’s a good thing. I believe it would be better to prevent a crime than have it happen and solve it after the fact,” piped up Mrs. James.

“Of course, Jessica, that would be the ideal scenario. But we all know it’s not the reality. What I’m saying to Inspector Poole is that not every crime needs a team. One or two detectives could solve a crime,” clarified Assistant Commissioner Mayne.

“With all due respect, sir, back in London we have higher budgets, access to different technologies and ample workforce,” said Richard in an even tone as he looked straight at his superior. “Our team of four make do of what we have despite the meager budget, nonexistent forensic lab and lack of people. But I can assure you if you put us side-by-side with the detectives in my old post in Croydon, we’ll be the ones to crack the case more efficiently.”

Assistant Commissioner Mayne looked at him in surprise. This was a different DI Poole he had read about in the file and heard from his old Super in Croydon. That Poole had a prickly personality, straight laced and an odd-man out, nobody liked him at his last post. This was why he got shipped off in a small island in the Caribbean.

But here was Poole in the flesh, with several major crimes solved under his belt, exuding a quiet confidence and humility so rare in British detectives. It seemed the island life had changed him. What an interesting transformation, he thought quite amused. It looked like he had to make a report and update Richard Poole’s file.

“Don’t be offended, Inspector. Henry has an outsider viewpoint as I’m sure you had when you first set foot on Saint Marie. I know it’s quite difficult to get over the lack of resources on the islands, I’ve been working here for more than five years, you see,” said Mr. James deftly. “But what I admire the most is that the people and the institutions here are so resourceful and smart. It’s quite amazing to know that things can get accomplished even without the convenient things we have back in London. Isn’t it?”

Richard gave him a nod in agreement. Now here was a man who truly understood. Perhaps, not about the bothersome heat, sand and insects, but about the realities of working in ‘paradise.’ He learned from both locals and his team that in the face of extreme necessity, resourcefulness, resilience and working together, were the keys to getting things done in a small island like Saint Marie.

“I apologise if I’ve spoken out of turn, sir. It’s just that my team in Saint Marie is part of what drives our success. They are just as hardworking as the Met person seconded to them,” he said as he turned to the assistant commissioner, looking contrite. He didn’t think what he said was untrue but the way he said it may have come off a bit disrespectful.

“Not at all, Poole. I like a leader who values his team and sees how important they are to carrying out police work,” said Assistant Commissioner Mayne quickly with an enigmatic smile on his face.

Richard was instantly suspicious of that smile but he dismissed it. He reminded himself the old man wasn’t here on official business. He wondered when Camille would be back as he squinted at the other dining table where Commissioner Picot whisked her away. He realized that the string orchestra was no longer on the dance floor and the DJ on stage was starting to play an old standard. Perry Como’s “Catch a Falling Star” drifted in the air.

“I believe, darling, that’s our cue to start the festivities,” said Mrs. James to her husband as she took his hand and led him to the dance floor. Assistant Commissioner Mayne just looked on.

Richard panicked. He had forgotten that this New Year’s Eve party would have some kind of dancing. He looked to see if Camille was coming back. Why was she taking so long? Had she taken a fancy to that person Commissioner Picot introduced her to? He fidgeted in his seat and glanced furtively at the exit.

Good thing he didn’t wait long. Camille and Commissioner Picot came back to their table. He felt her hand touched his back briefly. He sighed in relief. Thankful that he wouldn’t have to be alone with Assistant Commissioner Mayne. The old man’s company was making him uncomfortable for some reason.

He leant close to Camille and said: “So how did it go? Met a prospective husband?” He was decidedly fishing for information.

“Wouldn’t you like to know...” Camille teased and raised an eyebrow at him. But her demeanour changed and she said rather seriously: “I know you said you don’t dance. But the songs are slow ones so you can at least manage a waltz, right?”

“Yes?” Now, he was certainly afraid of what she would say next.

“Well, you would have to ask Commissioner Picot and Mrs. James to dance tonight. I know you want to disagree with me on this but please, just this once I want you to try and be more sociable, especially when we are trying to promote cooperation and drum up goodwill for Saint Marie’s sake,” Camille whispered to him earnestly.

Richard immediately took a stubborn stance, one arm tucked across himself while the other was perched on top of it as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. A few days ago, he was all too ready to spend the changing of the years in his hothouse of a shack yet here he was at a party where he would be forced to dance. ‘God, why did I agree to go to this again?’

“It’s only for these two women. No one else,” Camille reassured him. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he upped and left. It would just cause a scene. If he flat out refused and chose to run away, she had no choice but to stay in the party and do whatever she could at damage control.

Richard hadn’t said anything. He had his eyes closed and he was still pinching the bridge of his nose. Camille knew she had to take drastic measures. “All right. I guess, I’ll just have to do all the work then. You can go and escape from the party.”

“Hang on. I don’t want you to do that,” he suddenly said as if he was jolted from his stupor. “We’re both representatives of the Commissioner. So we’re in this thing together.  It’s just...I...I need time to process what I have to do, that’s all.”

Camille smiled at him gratefully. “You can ask Commissioner Picot now because it seems Assistant Commissioner Mayne is not going to ask her. I have a feeling he’s probably waiting until our conversation is over before he asks me.”

Richard shot a quick look at the old man and caught him sending sneaky glances their way. This sly old man, he muttered to himself. He felt a pang of protectiveness for Camille. Not that she needed it, he thought. But still, as her superior officer, he felt compelled to look out for her. Or so he thought again. He sighed. There was no running away from it then.

“All right. It’s our duty, after all,” he said in resignation. “But since I’m only dancing with the VIP women. You should also only dance with the VIP men, namely the British consul and I guess, we have no choice, Assistant Commissioner Mayne.”

But as soon as he realized what he said, he wished he could have taken it back. So he quickly clarified: “No, what I meant was, um, you can dance with any men who would ask you...I mean, I don’t want to stop you from enjoying the party and all that...”

“Richard, you’re doing it again,” Camille reminded him.

He blinked at her, uncomprehending.

“You are hiding what you truly want to say,” she said helpfully.

He blinked again. “Sorry. Force of habit. I only started unlearning it a few nights ago.”

“What do you really want to tell me then?” asked Camille gently.

“Look, I’m not stopping you from dancing with other important people who, I’m sure, have been tremendous help to our small police force. It is your choice whether you want to dance with them or not, of course,” he explained, fully aware he was being long-winded about the whole thing.

“And?” coaxed Camille.

“And since we’ve been talking about me changing a little bit and being more sociable and open to trying new things, I just feel that I should have your last dance. That’s all.” The last sentence came out in an embarrassed whisper that he found himself fumbling for his bow tie again. This business of being honest with one’s feeling was going to be the death of him.

Camille bit her lower lip to stop herself from both laughing out loud and bursting into tears. It wouldn’t do to have Richard think she had gone mental over his thinly veiled request. She was just truly amazed and happy that this arrogant, pedantic and repressed man was trying his best to change even just a little of his ways. It was an achievement for them both.

So she looked straight at him and nodded: “As you wish.”

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

Richard felt time froze as heat rushed up his face. Did he just ask Camille to dance with him? He did, didn’t he? Embarrassment coupled with elation swept over him. He felt the familiar rush he got when he stopped analysing things and just blindly stepped into the void. But of course, doubt was always his enemy. Did she really say yes?

Sensing his trepidation, Camille was forced to clarify: “Yes, Richard, I would love you to be my last dance for the year.”

He gave her a shy, lopsided smile. Just then, the music changed into Ella Fitzgerald’s “Moonlight Serenade.” Camille nudged him. So he schooled his features into an amicable, friendly face and turned to Commissioner Picot.

“Madame, may I have this dance?” he asked smoothly, gaining confidence from the prospect of dancing with Camille at year’s end.

“Why I would love to, Inspector Poole,” said the lady commissioner with a smile.

As they were heading to the dance floor, Richard couldn’t help but notice that the assistant commissioner rose from his seat and approached Camille. ‘Better watch it, old man,’ he thought to himself. If he saw his superior touched Camille in an inappropriate way, he would most definitely arrest him, Met assistant commissioner or not.

“Don’t you worry. She can take care of herself.” Commissioner Picot broke into his thoughts.

He raised his eyebrows at her, startled that she would discern what he was thinking. “Excuse me, Commissioner?”

“I’m referring to your DS,” she said as she took Richard’s hand and they started dancing to the music. “I can assure you she can take care of herself. Both in diplomatically discreet and in outwardly fierce ways.”

“I have no doubt about that,” he agreed, surprised that the commissioner was quite a good dancer.

“It’s just that, you know, we can get too protective of our junior officers sometimes and we forget,” continued Commissioner Picot as she eyed Camille and Assistant Commissioner Mayne dancing.

Richard didn’t say a word. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out if Commissioner Picot had discovered what he was thinking earlier. Well, she didn’t become a police commissioner without great perceptive skills. “Yes, we do,” he conceded instead, sounding disinterested as he could.

“I don’t care for your Assistant Commissioner Mayne though. Such a typical chauvinist, not even a polite offer of a dance,” she huffed. “I mean, for the sake of formality and respect, he should have shown more consideration. Don’t you think so?”

Richard knew he had stumbled upon a very delicate scenario. His own top brass committing a faux pas at a party that their government may have hosted but was clearly not in their home ground. He cringed at the thought. Now he knew what probably Camille, Dwayne and Fidel go through whenever he did the same thing. He had to somehow appease the commissioner.

“Um, I think Assistant Commissioner Mayne is not here as an official representative of the Met,” he said carefully. He would have to choose his words lest he added more insult to Commissioner Picot’s injury.

“And I have it in good authority that they tend to shed their formal and uptight police persona when they are on vacation somewhere far away from London. Something about letting loose and unwinding. So please forgive him for being so...dare I say, out of touch.”

Commissioner Picot looked at him with one eyebrow raised. Richard gulped. Oh no, he said the wrong thing again! His attempt to apologise was interrupted by a high pitched laughter coming from the commissioner herself. He blinked in surprise.

“Oh I was just pulling your leg, Inspector,” she said when she recovered from her fit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that you, British, are so fun to tease.”

Richard managed to smile back at her. Apparently, Camille’s penchant for teasing wasn’t an exclusive trait. It seemed that a certain woman police commissioner also had the same characteristic. He sighed inwardly. Another thing to keep in mind when dealing with this particular woman, he thought.

“I appreciate that you tried to assuage my annoyance with your superior officer. It’s one quality I expect from my own subordinates,” she said rather seriously. “Believe it or not, I sometimes tend to commit a major embarrassment or two without meaning to, but it puts me at ease to know that my people would have done the same as you did. The Met and Selwyn are lucky to have you.”

Richard was taken aback by the compliment. It seemed that tonight was a night full of surprises and praises for him. He was beginning to feel that the party wasn’t so bad at all. He allowed himself to be quite cheerful inside. But he didn’t want to fully rest on his laurels. He was very well acquainted with Murphy’s law.

“I think you would find only Commissioner Patterson would admit to being lucky,” he smiled sheepishly. He stopped himself from adding the Met didn’t really recognize his efforts. That would sound rather bitter and unprofessional.

“Nonsense. You do yourself a disservice. From what I heard from Camille, you are a brilliant detective. Different but definitely brilliant,” scolded Commissioner Picot. “And both of us know that Detective Sergeant Bordey is a tough cookie to crack. She could have swan herself back here in Guadeloupe easily if you’ve not been up to her expectations. But she didn’t and that is quite significant. Wouldn’t you think so, Inspector Poole?” 

“Hard to believe that we get on better now. We were like oil and water at first. Although I believed she might have lowered her expectations quite a bit for me,” he gave in to a little chuckle. 

Commissioner Picot laughed again and this time, it caught the attention of Camille and Assistant Commissioner Mayne, who were dancing not too far away from them. Camille waggled her eyebrows at him. He felt lighthearted as he nodded at her but frowned as he saw his superior holding her too close for his own comfort.

“So how do you find working with DS Bordey?” said the lady commissioner out of the blue.

“She’s very good with people, which is a complete opposite of me,” he replied quickly. “She can be quick-tempered and stubborn. But she’s smart and capable. I’ve never had a partner who completely understands the way I think and work but at the same time challenges me for it.”

He didn’t know why all of a sudden he was being quite honest with Commissioner Picot. Had it been a different setting, he would have compared the whole thing to an official interrogation. But the commissioner seemed to be sincere with her questions, not that he trusted his judgment about these things. For all he knew this could be a trap of some kind.

“She can get to other people’s confidences without them knowing it. That’s why she is very good at undercover work. She can make people trust her easily,” said the commissioner with a look of pride in her eyes. Richard surmised the commissioner probably acted as a mentor to Camille when she was a police recruit. 

“She did her on the job training with me when she was a police recruit,” said the commissioner as if reading his thoughts. “I’d like to think I’ve contributed a little bit to her success in getting a spot in that Paris training. I bet Selwyn would frown at that. But as her mentors, we both want to see her grow professionally.”

For a second, Richard thought Commissioner Picot would ask him to let go of Camille because she was better suited as an undercover police officer. If he was being honestly selfish about it, he would readily admit that he would rather have her by his side working as his partner. Still, everything would really be up to Camille herself. He didn’t have any say on the matter, although he wished he did.

“So I suggest you treat her right or my office will steal her away,” laughed the lady commissioner. This time, Richard gave up on taking anything Commissioner Picot say seriously whilst they were on the dance floor. It seemed that the champagne, the good meal and the dancing had made her rather flippant and frivolous. He wondered if it was nearing midnight yet.

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

Meanwhile, Camille seemed to be experiencing her own interrogation. As soon as Richard led Commissioner Picot to the dance floor, Assistant Commissioner Mayne went straight to Camille and asked her to dance. She accepted without qualms. 

She knew she would have to entertain the top brass from the Met. She suspected that the old man was keeping a close eye on Richard, even if he said he wasn’t on official business. She also wanted to know if the higher ups were aware of Richard’s skill as a detective. She hoped she could whittle that info from him before their dance was over.

“So DS Bordey, what is it like working with Inspector Poole? I heard you two didn’t get along well the first time,” asked Assistant Commissioner Mayne casually. He clearly was reveling in the fact that he had a very beautiful young woman in his arms.

Camille smiled before answering: “I thought you’re not on duty, sir.”

“Well, I’m sure you know that police officers like us are never really off duty, right?”

What a sly old man, she thought. “It’s true we didn’t get along well. We came from different backgrounds and have different working styles, after all. But we managed to reach a compromise to be able to work together harmoniously.”

“Oh, is that why your crime resolution rate is high at Honore?”

“It’s a contributing factor, yes. But mostly, it was a team effort, meaning all members of the team contributed to the success of solving the case,” she said with pride.

“Funny, Poole said almost the same thing when we were conversing at the table. I wonder if you’d both rehearsed that answer,” remarked the assistant commissioner with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Camille stopped herself just in time from rolling her eyes. There was no denying it, the assistant commissioner also wanted information just like her.

“Perhaps, we just have the same mind when it comes to these things, sir. You see, in a very small police force such as ours, working as a team is a necessity and not an option,” Camille said as she looked at him without batting an eyelash. “That and because we are not the kind of police officers who selfishly take credit for a solved case.”

“Of course, my apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you. There’s no malice in that comment,” Assistant Commissioner Mayne replied, almost surprised at his own reaction.

He read Camille’s file, of course. But he wasn’t prepared for the way she subtly subverted his mild accusation. No doubt this was one of the skills she was good at, having worked as an undercover cop for quite some time.

He realized he had a formidable woman in his arms, who, upon further rumination, reminded him of Commissioner Picot. He wondered if all Caribbean women police officers are as feisty and shrewd as them?

“None taken, sir,” Camille smiled a bit seductively. Good lord, she was indeed a bewitching young woman, thought the assistant commissioner. ‘I would hope Richard Poole isn’t distracted by her charms,’ he thought. But he berated himself. He shouldn’t be concerned about the appearances or ‘charms’ of junior officers, that would be grounds for discrimination and harassment.

“So how about you, sir, are you familiar with the Inspector’s uncanny ability to solve a murder?” This time Camille opted for the not-so-subtle approach. She might as well make her intentions known.

“Unfortunately, I have not. It was only recently that he had come under my radar, so to speak,” said the assistant commissioner honestly. “Especially in the cases of Vicky Woodward and his former colleague in Croydon, Doug Anderson.”

“I see. Inspector Poole doesn’t mention much about his previous post in Croydon. But if I may speak honestly, sir, I witnessed how Doug Anderson treated him. He didn’t really conduct himself as a respectable Metropolitan police officer,” said Camille smoothly. She was careful not to tinge her statement with emotion as she was sure Assistant Commissioner Mayne was already aware of Anderson’s behaviour. It was all in her report anyway.

“Ah yes. I can assure you Doug Anderson’s behaviour is not indicative of the whole Metropolitan Police. I know he had been disciplined a couple of times and in my opinion should have been thrown out of the force a long time ago. But I suppose, he fell through the cracks like the cockroach he is!”

Camille thought: ‘Jackpot!’ She had hit a nerve. She smiled to herself.

“It happens, sir. But I don’t know how Croydon carried on like that. Then again, I heard that the likes of Anderson was celebrated and popular over there while the real detectives who do their work diligently was marginalized,” she continued, again making sure it was a neutral and innocent statement.

“Don’t worry. Some reforms are on the way to Croydon. It may take a while to get them implemented, but I will make sure it happens on my watch.” Assistant Commissioner Mayne didn’t notice he had let his guard down, probably because of the champagne, the good food and a beautiful captive audience in his arms right now. 

“It’s too bad Inspector Poole no longer works there to see those reforms. Anyway, Croydon’s loss is Saint Marie’s gain,” said Camille.

“So how is Inspector Poole adjusting to island life? He seemed to have fitted in quite nicely. Although, he doesn’t look like it. He is as pale as a ghost,” the assistant commissioner remarked, wondering how on earth did the detective manage to remain untanned.

Camille was about to mention that Richard always used sunscreen factor 50, when a boisterous laughter rang over the din of the crowded dance floor. Both she and Assistant Commissioner Mayne looked at where it came from and to her surprise and amusement, it came from Commissioner Picot. She immediately saw Richard’s face blanched. He must be embarrassed to high heavens, she chuckled to herself.

When they moved closer to Richard and the lady commissioner, she waggled her eyebrows at him whilst he gave her a curt nod and a momentary frown in return. She was impressed. It looked like Richard was handling things well and he even made Commissioner Picot laughed. His eyes didn’t even plead for help. ‘Wow, tonight is full of surprises,’ she thought.

“So...do you think Inspector Poole will want to come back to London?” Assistant Commissioner Mayne asked. He didn’t think it was appropriate to ask her such a question as it might reveal too much. But he wanted to get a general feel of Poole’s career plan. 

“Sir?” She blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden turn of the conversation.

“I mean, if the Met was to offer him a job back in London, do you think he’ll take it?” clarified the assistant commissioner. He was really pushing the envelop now. He was sure this would reach Poole’s ears. No matter, nothing was set in stone yet.

“Um, I’m not really privy to what he wants, sir. It’s best that you ask him yourself.” She knew it was a gamble to give a dead end answer. But she had to make sure if the information she was hoping for was forthcoming.

“It’s just a hypothetical question, Detective Sergeant. But I’d like to hear your opinion as you work closely with him,” Assistant Commissioner Mayne insisted mildly and a bit jokingly.

“Well, sir, I think any British police officer seconded abroad would like to go back home. Even if, as they say, they’re staying in paradise. It’s not really where they would want to be permanently, right? But why do you ask, sir?” She had to know what this top brass of the Met was insinuating. So she set up the trap and hoped the assistant commissioner would take the bait.

“It seems his work in Saint Marie and the high clearance rate, not to mention the fact that he, I mean, your team, had bagged criminals involved in high profile crimes have been noticed by my colleagues,” said the assistant commissioner thoughtfully without even realizing that he had revealed his hand. “In other words, the higher-ups are quite impressed with him and they are now realizing that it was London’s loss when he was sent away.”

“If that’s the case, sir, I think he would be happy that finally the Met is recognizing his skills as a first rate detective. He would also be ecstatic to be back in London again,” declared Camille as she feigned cheerfulness. “So when will they bring him back?”

“Oh I don’t know. These things take time and budget. It may happen as early as six months or it may take another two years,” the assistant commissioner answered flippantly. “So do you think he would be amenable to that scenario?”

“I have no idea, sir. You really should talk to him and see what he thinks. He’s not exactly the type who shares his feelings about stuffs to other people,” Camille smiled conspiratorially.

The assistant commissioner chuckled. “Yes, it’s a quintessential trait of every Englishman, I’m afraid.”

Camille felt a bit lost. Well, she wanted information and there it was: the higher ups in London wanted him back. She pushed back the prickly sadness growing in her heart. The offer would come and when it does, he would most certainly jump at the chance.

She knew Richard had been looking at job openings back in London. She even overheard him asking Commissioner Patterson if there was word when he could come back. Granted it was during his early days staying on the island. So she understood why he wanted to leave so badly. But now, she wasn’t sure if he was still trying to get back. It may be that he was silently bidding his time, waiting for an offer.

Truth be told, she would be sad to see him go. She long admitted she had grown fond of him, liked him even. But if he decided to go back, she wouldn’t stop him. He had been missing cold, rainy London for a long time. Plus, the Met would finally recognize his talent as a detective. Surely, they could offer a lot more to him than Saint Marie could afford. It would be such a great career move for him.

If Assistant Commissioner Mayne’s information was accurate, he would be offered a job soon. They could easily find a replacement for him in Saint Marie in two to three months. She silently lamented. So this was going to be their first and last social event with just the two of them together. How fitting was that. Well, she had better make the best of it then. Richard may be leaving Saint Marie for good in a couple of months.

“Are you all right, Camille?” The voice of Assistant Commissioner Mayne cut through her musings. “I’m sorry. Here I am enjoying myself and I hadn’t noticed that you might be tired of dancing already.”

“Oh no, sir. I was just thinking about the time when a suspect in one of our cases used a goat as an alibi,” she said enthusiastically. “And what’s even funnier, the suspect named the goat Richard.”

“Seriously? Oh I’d love to hear about that one,” laughed the assistant commissioner. They continued dancing until the music ended. Then they headed back to their table and met the other VIPs who were conversing amongst themselves. Camille saw Richard sitting by the table, looking a bit smug at her. She decided to put her sadness aside and grinned back at him.

* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

“So how did I do?” he asked with both arms around his chest as he slightly leant closer to Camille.

“You did quite well, Inspector. And you even made Commissioner Picot laughed. That’s quite an achievement. She’s a very difficult woman to please, you know,” she said to him.

“What do you mean difficult to please? She actually amused herself at my discomfort, which reminded me so much of you.” He closed his mouth immediately when he realized what he just said. Bollocks! Here he was trying to impress her with his remarkable feat and he placed a foot in his mouth again.

“I’m quite flattered that you were thinking of me whilst you were dancing with another woman,” Camille teased him. He just gave her a hard stare as she giggled. “Anyway, I think you should ask the British consul’s wife for a dance next before they change the music into a lively one.”

Richard groaned. He knew it wasn’t over but he would like a minute or two to compose himself and get ready for his next attempt at dancing. “Well, I need a minute to psyche myself up for the next one.”

“Oh come on, this one is easy. Mrs. James seemed like a typical English rose. She rather strongly reminds me of...what was her name again...I’m sure you remember her...the woman who shot her husband...um...” Camille started snapping her fingers, trying hard to pretend she forgot the name. But she perfectly knew who that woman was and so did Richard.

“It’s Megan Talbot, Camille,” he said rather testily. “And for a hundredth time, I didn’t like her. She was an attractive woman, sure, but she wasn’t my type.”

“So what is your type then?” shot back Camille, one eyebrow raised as a challenge.

“I don’t know about you but I’m thirsty. Would you like a drink?” he announced, completely ignoring her. She dissolved into giggles and just nodded. He shook his head at her and went to the bar to fetch some drinks.

On his way back, he saw her leaving the table with the British consul. She looked at him apologetically and signaled with her hand, discreetly pointing at Mrs. James, who was left sitting alone at the table.

“Mrs. James would you like a drink?” he offered the handsome woman the cocktail meant for Camille.

“Why thank you, Inspector. It’s just what I needed,” she said gratefully. She had such striking blue eyes and a rather demure smile.

He realized Camille was right. She did resemble Megan Talbot, although an older version. He also noticed that her demeanour and movements were quite similar to Ms. Talbot. He tamped down the nervousness swirling in his stomach. Speaking of dancing, he would really need to ask her to dance soon or his courage would leave him once the tune changed into a lively one.

“Um, Mrs. James would you care to dance? I know it’s rather insensitive of me to ask seeing that you must be tired. If you are, I’d understand if you are not up to it,” he knew he rambled through his words, so he did his best to smile shyly at her.

“Oh not at all. I would love to dance with you, Inspector,” said Mrs. James, putting down her drink. “I realised I better dance several dignified dances now before things get too rowdy on the dance floor later on.”

“My sentiments exactly, madame,” he smiled back and led the older woman to the dance floor. He caught a glimpse of Camille looking at him and gave her a reassuring quick nod. Once again, she gave him an approving smile. Well, at least someone recognised his efforts of the evening. He wondered for the umpteenth time if they would really get a chance to dance together.

“So Inspector, how do you find working in Saint Marie?” Mrs. James asked as they swayed to Nat King Cole crooning “Fly Me to the Moon.”

“It has been...a very educational experience,” Richard replied. He knew Mrs. James wouldn’t be as prying and probing as Commissioner Picot. She was British, after all. But still, he hoped this conversation would only stick to the weather and to one’s health. So he decided to take the reins.

“How have you and Mr. James been enduring the heat? I suppose after working here for quite some time you’ve grown accustomed to the humidity.” There, he started with the weather, which was a very neutral ground.

“Oh it was horrendous at first. But Patrick and I learned that if you dress light like the locals do, the heat wouldn’t be so bothersome. I’m guessing that was what you meant when you said it was very educational working in Saint Marie,” explained Mrs. James, blue eyes twinkling.

Richard felt his face flushed with embarrassment. Did Mrs. James know about him wearing a woolen suit in Saint Marie by any chance? Who would have told her? Camille? Commissioner Picot? Sabine Picot was the most likely suspect, he concluded.

He managed to utter: “Um, something like that, yes.” So much for taking the reins of the conversation. Now he wished the dance floor would just swallow him whole.

“Don’t worry, Inspector. It takes a while to adjust to a new environment. My husband and I may have been staying and working here long but we have yet to truly imbibe island life. Although, I can proudly say we are now good at liming,” Mrs. James explained, smiling sweetly at him.

“I’m afraid I don't understand the concept of liming. It still baffles me,” Richard admitted openly. “What do you do when you go liming? What does it entail?”

“Perhaps, it would be best if you don’t try to understand it intellectually, Inspector,” pointed out Mrs. James gently. She recognized Richard’s type—smart, bookish, very detailed and definitely a logical thinker. All good qualities for a detective to have but interfered with the social aspects of island life. “When you lime, you do nothing.”

Richard just blinked at her, thoroughly not comprehending what she meant. Why would one waste time doing nothing when one can do other more productive things like reading or doing the laundry. “So I’m actually liming when I read a book?” he asked tentatively.

“Well, liming is not a solitary activity,” said Mrs. James. “In Caribbean culture, liming is the art of doing nothing whilst sharing food, drink, conversation with other people like your friends. Have you made friends in Saint Marie?”

“Um, the members of my team. I mean my colleagues have become my friends,” he said, surprising himself with how readily he answered the question. Two years ago, he would have insisted that they were just colleagues and nothing more. But now, Camille, Fidel and Dwayne had become important to him.

“So have you gone liming with them?”

“I’m not sure if what we’ve done can be considered liming but we usually go out for after work drinks. Sometimes, we get together at my place to drink beer and play board games or go for a paddle. Though I don’t really care for going out to sea in a dingy boat,” he said, still unsure if he really did some liming with his team.

“Sounds like it. Did you have fun and enjoyed their company?” She was quite amused at Richard’s obvious aversion to the sea.

“Yes, I did. Although, they usually say I should loosen up and relax more,” he answered jokingly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it when you rack in more years on the job like Patrick and I,” she reassured him casually.

Richard’s face turned serious at the thought. He wasn’t really sure if he was going to stay in Saint Marie long enough to understand liming. He knew his transfer wasn’t a permanent thing. The Met could recall him any time or even offer him a job back in London. Did he want that to happen? Of course, it was what he always wanted, wasn’t it? He couldn’t really see himself working in Saint Marie for more than five years. But why did the thought of leaving feel so horrific and sad all of a sudden?

Mrs. James thought she may have said something out of turn to Richard when she glanced at his face. She didn’t really know what his work situation was like, he may not see himself living and working on the island for years.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you may have no plans of staying there long. How insensitive of me,” she said, looking contrite.

“Not at all. Please don’t worry about it,” Richard immediately replied. The last thing he wanted was to make the British consul’s wife feel guilty on New Year’s Eve. “I’m not really thinking about where I’ll be in the next five years or so. You see, I’m a bit of a living-in-the-present kind of man. There's a fitting quote I read recently that best described such a mindset: ‘Let him who would enjoy a good future waste none of his present.’”*

“That is, indeed, a very wise saying, Inspector,” said Mrs. James, smiling at him gratefully. They continued their dance in silence until the end of the song.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Let him who would enjoy a good future waste none of his present." is by Roger Babson, an American entrepreneur, economist and business theorist in the first half of the 20th century. He was the founder of Babson College in Wellesley, MA.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

Richard escorted the older woman back to their table and saw Camille already sitting and conversing with the British consul. The two commissioners were nowhere to be found. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least, he didn’t have to be under the scrutinizing eyes of the Met higher up. For some reason, he couldn’t shake his initial suspicion about him.

“Darling, now that we’ve started this party going, are you too tired to mingle and greet our guests with me?” Mr. James asked his wife. “I could see my assistant eyeing me like a hawk. Most likely trying to send me a telepathic message that says I should go around and strengthen our relationship with the different members of the community in attendance this evening.”

“Give me five minutes to sit down, Patrick. I’m sure your consul duties can wait for five minutes, right?” she beamed at her husband. “Besides, this is a laid back New Year’s eve party, not a diplomatic function. Tell Harold, he should relax and lime.” She gave Richard a wink and he gave her a small smile in return.

Camille didn’t miss the gesture. As soon as he sat beside her, she leant close to his ear and teased: “Hmm...what is that all about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know...” he said, smiling wickedly at her. He just loved using one of her comebacks against her.

Camille playfully hit him on his shoulder in mock annoyance. “So how was dancing with Mrs. James. Did it bring back sweet memories of Mrs. Talbot?”

“Camille,” he warned, getting a bit annoyed at her persistence in reminding him of Megan Talbot. He remembered when they were investigating the case of her husband’s murder, Camille was also quite incorrigible with her teasing. ‘Was she jealous?’ he wondered quietly, feeling somewhat giddy and elated.

“You two get along so well,” remarked Mrs. James, who was now drinking another cocktail delivered by her husband. The British consul had excused himself when a local charity board member asked to speak with him.

The two detectives just gave her shy smiles, feeling like children caught doing something silly. Camille recovered her composure first: “It’s bound to happen, Mrs. James. There are only four police officers in our station, you see, so we have to work closely and get along quite well.”

“That’s right. For a case to get solved, we need to be agreeable toward each other. But there are times, we don’t get along at all.” Richard added as he shot a quick look at Camille. She gave him a warning glance in retaliation.

“Well, I think it’s fantastic that the four of you are able to depend on each other as colleagues and friends as Richard mentioned to me earlier,” said Mrs. James.

“Oh he did, did he?” asked Camille as she gave him an enquiring look.

Richard knew only too well the meaning behind Camille’s tone, so he actively avoided looking back at her.

“I mean having a team of friends like that makes a huge difference in solving crimes. As Helen Keller said: ‘Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much.’” It was the second time Mrs. James winked at Richard, which made him feel a bit awkward.

He knew Mrs. James had mimicked his use of a quote in their conversation on the dance floor earlier. He felt flattered and nervously uncomfortable at the same time.

Camille didn’t miss the gesture the second time either. Now she was even more curious. It wasn’t everyday that a handsome woman would share a wink with the pedantic Englishman. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Just then an embassy staffer approached their table and whispered something to Mrs. James’ ear. She nodded and turned to the two detectives: “I’m afraid I would have to leave you, youngsters, to enjoy yourselves. I have to join Patrick now. Someone needs to be by his side to remind people to forego talking shop for now and just enjoy the party.”

Richard and Camille stood up when she got up from her seat. “My husband and I are glad that both of you are able to come. In case we don’t see you when the celebration is in full swing, we wish you a happy New Year. Please tell, Commissioner Patterson, he owes us a visit.”

They just nodded and sat down again. “So, what have you shared with Mrs. James that made her flirt with you like that?” Camille couldn’t help but blurt out.

“She wasn’t flirting with me. The woman is old enough to be my mother,” blustered Richard. Well, she wasn’t really that old but he was trying to make a point to Camille.

“Oh the winks and knowing nods? I’m sure you’ve shared something significant with her that earned you those, you know,” Camille persisted, giving him a teasing smile.

“If you must know, we just talked about liming. She gave me some tips and such,” Richard said dismissively as he glanced discreetly at his watch. It was 11:30pm. He wondered what time should he asked Camille for that dance. He looked around them to see if there were some men eyeing their table.

“What’s the matter?” Camille asked, suddenly on alert. “A security threat?”

Richard was surprised by her reaction. “Um, nothing. I was just observing my surroundings for a bit. We’re police officers, you know, so we should be aware of what’s going on.”

“I know. Well, I could tell you there are 10 security detail in this event. Five of which I’m assuming are provided by the hotel. They’re outside the perimeter. The other five are specifically provided by the British government. They’re in here. One is constantly sticking to the British consul, another one is with the French prefect. Two by the emergency exits. One is by the entrance,” said Camille seriously. She decided not to mention the myriad of plainclothes police officers in attendance at the party.

Richard looked at her in disbelief. “How on earth did you manage to know all that?” Then realising it was a stupid question to ask Camille, he put up his hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s because of your undercover training.”

Camille shrugged. She would have told Richard that in parties like these, she had a habit of scanning for the exits first. But thought the better of it. These skills had been deeply ingrained in her during her undercover training so much so that she could never fully relax in gatherings such as this one. They were useful to police work but they were hard to break even in her off hours.

“You never got me that drink,” she reminded him, hoping to change the subject.

But Richard seemed to want to ask her something. He leant closer to her and whispered: “Um, can you tell me how many men are looking this way?”

A knot formed on her forehead. What was he up to? She thought. But Richard nodded at her as if to encourage her to do her thing again. She rolled her eyes. “Three on our 9 o’clock. Two on our 3 o’clock. There are two trying to catch my eye on the dance floor. Do you want me to tell you their horoscopes, too?”

“Can you?” Richard asked in disbelief. Camille gave him a quick pinch on the arm. “Owwww! I was only joking,” he said, rubbing the area where she got him.

“So what was that all about then?” Camille was getting a bit annoyed now. She didn’t enjoy doing parlour tricks just for his amusement.

“Right. Let’s go get our drinks,” he said resolutely. His sneaking suspicion was right. There were blokes who were angling to dance with Camille until midnight. He looked at his watch and sighed. Time was ticking away rather slowly.

“But you haven’t told me what was that all about,” Camille pouted.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the bar,” he said, taking her hand and tucking it in his arm as a way to placate her.

Camille didn’t say another word. She was completely surprised by Richard taking charge and letting her hold his arm. What was he up to? She thought again.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love showing off Camille's undercover skills. The part where she inadvertently revealed to Richard a 'professional' side of her she couldn't turn off was interesting. Trust Richard to brilliantly take advantage of it for his own gain. Hahaha. ;-)


	14. Chapter 14

 

* * *

At the bar, Richard handed her a cocktail, which she took gratefully. Once again, they stood by the wayside, observing the now lively celebration. 

“So what was that all about? Hmmm?” Camille broke the silence.

Richard gave her a small smile. He didn’t think Camille would forget about that, did he? No way. This woman was an epitome of persistence and determination. No way could he escape from her probing.

“I suspected that there are people who are just waiting for their chance to dance with you tonight,” he said casually. “And I was right.”

Camille huffed. “How would you know? They are probably just looking and admiring. Or maybe it wasn’t me they are after. It might be you.”

“I think you know as well as I do that is not the case. I’m pretty sure they are all aiming for you,” he pointed out. He didn’t really want to say it out loud, but he had to admit that his DS was quite an attractive men-magnet.

“But what if some of them are aiming for you? Would you dance with them?” Camille asked. The knowledge that Richard was concerned about other men’s ‘affection’ toward her was quite flattering.

“Sure I would. But you seemed to have forgotten that I never dance to lively music,” he said, raising his glass to her and taking a sip. “Ever.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. Typical Richard. “So is that why you whisked me away from our table and took me with you to get drinks?”

Richard sighed but he nodded just the same. No use blustering his way out of this, she would see right through it. Blast! Why did he have to unlearn his habit of masking his true feelings again? He hoped that the conversation would end. He was embarrassed enough by his behaviour as it was. He sipped his drink again.

“So you want me all to yourself?”

He choked on his drink and look hard at Camille. “That wasn’t my intention! I mean, you could dance with anyone if they ask you to. I don’t want to curtail your enjoyment and...”

“Richard!” Camille said sternly. He stopped his blabbering and looked at her. “You’re doing it again.”

This time, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I was just looking at the time. If I was to have your last dance of the year, I should keep an eye on it. Wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity, you know.”

He knew he was floundering in his explanation but the soft look that Camille gave him was enough to make him weak in the knees as he breathed through his mouth. He wished time would hurry up.

Camille was about to say something when they heard a familiar voice calling their names. It was Commissioner Picot.

“Are you two not going to dance? It’s nearing midnight,” said the commissioner.

“Well, we are waiting for something slower,” answered Camille, quickly qualifying the statement with: “...because Richard doesn’t dance to lively music.” Richard just nodded.

Commissioner Picot looked at him disapprovingly. “Really, Inspector, how hard can it be to move to a faster tune? You’ve done well in the slow ones.”

“Definitely hard for me. I wouldn’t want to embarrass our police force with such uncoordinated display of, um, moving,” he said, hoping the commissioner would just drop the subject.

Seeing his discomfort, the commissioner didn’t push the topic on him further. She turned to Camille and said: “Are you not staying an extra day here in Guadeloupe? You could stay at my house. Oh you’re invited, too, Inspector.”

Camille found the offer tempting. It would be nice to have an extra day in Guadeloupe and be with Richard at the same time. Not that he would ever agree to it, especially when they would be under the watchful eye of Commissioner Picot. Besides, that scenario wouldn’t be conducive to getting closer.

“I’m afraid not, Commissioner. We’ll be going back to Saint Marie tomorrow. We have got only one police officer manning the station even if it’s a public holiday. So he could use our help,” explained Camille. “But maman and I will see you at Les Nuis Caraibes in March. She is already looking forward to it.”

“Oh wonderful. It would be lovely to see Catherine again. I’m excited. We have much to talk about, especially about the man I introduced to you earlier,” winked Commissioner Picot at her.

For the second time, Camille caught herself before she could roll her eyes. She had to remember that she was with a superior officer who ranked higher than Richard but who was also her mentor. She smiled instead and stole a glance at Richard, absentmindedly tucking a wayward hair behind her ear.

Richard felt a sudden dejavu. It felt like he had been in this situation before as he saw Camille doing that gesture. He remembered it like it happened yesterday: Erzulie night; her blind date; his look of resignation; her look of disappointment. She was stunning then as she was now. But instead of her mother doing the matchmaking, it was her mentor. When would it be his turn?

As if on cue, a tall and very suave-looking, young French man approached their little group. Commissioner Picot greeted him with all smiles.

“Quentin, what brings you here?” the commissioner asked cheerily.

“I thought I caught a glimpse of Mlle. Bordey so I wanted to make sure if it was her,” the handsome young man said. “It turned out I was right. Hello again, Camille.”

“Hello, Quentin,” Camille said, a bit awkwardly. “Um, Quentin Maillard this is Honore’s Chief of Police and my boss, Detective Inspector Richard Poole. Inspector Poole, Quentin Maillard.”

“How do you do, Mr. Maillard.” Richard managed to say as he shook the young man’s hand. ‘Of course, he’s everything that I’m not,’ Richard thought drily.

“I don’t mean to interrupt anything. But I came over to ask Camille for a dance?” He looked at Camille, radiant smile and all.

Camille was about to decline when Richard spoke. “Oh, you’re not interrupting anything at all. Really. We’re just standing out here...um...people watching.”

Camille gave him a look that said it all. She couldn’t believe he cut her off like that when she was planning to wait the time with him. She willed herself to smile graciously at Quentin, who looked utterly relieved. She nodded at him. “I guess, we could.”

“Excuse us,” Quentin said to both the commissioner and Richard as he guided Camille to the dance floor. Richard just looked on with a forced smile plastered on his face, the kind that says he was a total git for giving away his chance. He berated himself.

But before the two went to the dance floor, Camille whispered something to Quentin. Leaving the young man behind, she went back to where Richard and Commissioner Picot were standing. 

“Excuse us for a second, Commissioner. I need to have a word with my boss,” she said cheerfully.

Richard was instantly gripped with fear. ‘Uh-oh. I’ve done it now,’ he gulped. It looked like Camille was going to give him a dressing down. She held him firmly by the arm and led him away from the commissioner.

“You’re not running away, are you?” Camille asked him with a serious look on her face.

“No, I’m not,” he shot back.

“Then remember what we agreed. My last dance is with you,” she said firmly.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he answered, hope swirling in his heart.

“Promise?” Camille intoned, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he didn’t lie.

“I promise,” he said without trepidation.

“Good.” She finally smiled at him and let go of his arm. She gave him a curt nod and went back to the young man waiting for her.

Richard looked at her, his confidence renewed. He did ask Camille for her last dance of the year and Camille said yes. If he didn’t follow through, what kind of a man would he be in her eyes? ‘Get it together, Poole,’ he scolded himself. ‘Your turn will come tonight!’

He suddenly felt lighter and even cheerful as he watched Camille and Quentin go to the dance floor. He joined Commissioner Picot, who was eyeing him expectantly.

“Everything all right, Inspector?” she casually asked.

“Oh yes, Commissioner. No problem at all,” he reassured as he sipped his drink.

“She didn’t ask you to dance with me, did she?” the commissioner said suspiciously.

Richard sputtered his drink a little. “Not in so many words, Commissioner. I told her I seriously don’t want to embarrass you with my awful dancing,” he lied through his teeth.

Commissioner Picot couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Inspector, you’re such a funny man. Come and join me. I’ll introduce you to the other big wigs here. I’m sure you can manage to make Saint Marie’s presence known without Camille for a while.”

He nodded reluctantly. He glanced at his watch, 20 minutes until midnight. He was cutting it close but he would make sure to look for her in the dance floor before the countdown started. He would not miss this opportunity, he told himself.

Camille caught a glimpse of Richard, leaving with the commissioner. They were probably going to talk and mingle with the other guests, she thought. She hoped he would not forget. He promised, after all.

If she hadn’t stop and went back to have a short talk with him, he would have probably retreated somewhere without telling her. That was the only part of him she didn’t like. But she could see he was slowly trying to change it. 

 Richard didn’t know how happy she was that he asked her. She knew taking that initiative was a huge step for him. This was why it was important to her. ‘He would go back to London one of these days and leave everyone and everything behind in Saint Marie,’ she thought sadly. ‘But I hope this event with me would create an indelible memory for him.”

Her eyes were starting to fill with tears so she blinked them rapidly. It wouldn’t do good to think of the future. The present was what mattered because it would be the only one they would have together.

* * *

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ponddipper and Kas03, your wish is my command. ;-)
> 
> Here's the chapter that embodies my very first idea for this fanfic after hearing a Tony Bennett's song. There was something about the song that got me in a giddy and inspired mood, making me imagine a romantic scenario in my head (plus it was Christmas time, all those ringing sleigh bells, falling snow and skating on ice). It led me to ask myself, what if Richard and Camille are in it? Wouldn't it be loverly? Of course, I had to tweak it a little to make it into a New Year in Saint Marie. But you get the gist.
> 
> Anyway, please excuse my references and allusions (I have quite a bit of them sprinkled all over the fic. But I love some of them in this chapter.) You can tell I had a bit of fun writing Richard and Camille in this scenario. I know it's been quite a build-up (read: long-winded) coming to this but I hope you'll find it satisfying and worth the long read and wait. :-)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read, give feedback and kudos. I truly, madly, deeply appreciate it.

* * *

11:50 pm...

Richard finally excused himself from a group of business owners that Commissioner Picot introduced to him. Potential investors of Saint Marie, wanting to know how the local peace keeping situation was on the island, she said.

He did his best to answer their questions, giving them assurances that the Royal Saint Marie Police Force was capable of maintaining the peace of its communities and businesses. He didn’t think it would take a while but when he glanced at his watch, it was already 10 minutes before midnight.

He went back to the place where Camille left with Quentin. Good lord, the dance floor was now packed. How in the world would he find Camille in this mass of undulating humanity? A wave of panic hit him. They didn’t agree on the time and the place to meet again after her dance with the young Frenchman. ‘Ah, you’re stupid, Poole. Why didn’t you think about that when you were talking to her earlier?’

He looked at his watch, 11:52pm. He tried her mobile but it went to voicemail. ‘Of course, she wouldn‘t be carrying her phone on the dance floor. Argh!’ He thought desperately. There was no way but to call out to her or something. He stalked in the midst of the dance floor, calling out her name. He was beginning to feel all kinds of frustrated at this useless attempt, when he finally caught sight of her.

The music had changed into slow standards again. And there she was with a tiara on her head, craning her neck this way and that as if looking for someone. He couldn’t help but smile. But then he saw the young man still dancing with her. That damn Frenchman hadn’t let her go, he thought a bit furious. Well, it was his turn now. He would be a bloody fool if he missed this chance again. 

He confidently walked up to the couple and tapped the shoulder of the tall man. “Excuse me, Mr. Maillard. I don’t mean to be rude but I believe I was promised a last dance by Ms. Bordey,” he said in the most confident voice he could muster.

The two stopped dancing and he saw Camille smiling radiantly at him. He felt his heart skipped a million beats as he looked at her. She nodded and said without looking at the man she was dancing with, “Yes, I did promise Mr. Poole that my last dance would be with him. I’m sorry, Quentin.”

Richard was thankful that Mr. Maillard didn’t put up a fight. He seemed to have caught on that his time with Camille had ended. He let go of her hand but not without kissing it. “It was enchanting to have met and danced with you, Camille. Bonne Annee,” he said suavely.

Camille smiled back at him gratefully. “Thank you, Quentin. Bonne Annee.”

When she turned to look at Richard, his arms were already at a ready. She broke into a wide smile again.

“Well, are we going to dance or not? We haven’t got a year, you know,” he joked while gazing at her expectantly.

Camille launched herself at him, almost knocking him backwards. “Take it easy. It’s supposed to be a slow dance, Camille. Not an acrobatic act from Cirque du Soleil.” Still, he reveled at the nearness of her, of her scent, of her face, of her laughter. He had longed to experience them again when they danced for the first time in Solly’s wake. That may had been brief, but she left quite a lasting impression on him.

Tony Bennett gentle singing drifted on the dance floor and they swayed to the music.

  _Some day, when I'm awfully low_

_When the world is cold_

_I will feel a glow just thinking of you_

_And the way you look tonight_

_Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm_

_And your cheeks so soft_

_There is nothing for me but to love you_

_And the way you look tonight..._

 “So what took you so long?” Camille said softly in his ear.

He just realized that they were dancing too close with their cheeks touching. He seemed to recall that he had seen an old movie with a scene just like this. “So?” Camille’s voice came to his ear insistently.

“I had to meet a group of investors who are planning to set up businesses in Saint Marie,” he simply said.

“Oh. That’s good.”

“It was, um, very informative. But I lost track of time. How about you? I would have thought your dance with the young Frenchman was long over. Apparently not,” he pretended to huff in annoyance.

Camille just giggled, sending warm breaths close to his ear. He resisted the urge to shiver at the very wonderful feeling they brought on him. If he did, it would break his cheek-to-cheek contact with her.

“I told him I had to look for you. But he didn’t want to let me go, saying you should be the one searching for me instead,” she said almost shyly.

“Typical French,” he retorted.

She giggled again and Richard contemplated on stopping her because it was making his knees turn to jelly but he changed his mind. He realized he liked Camille’s giggles, especially when they were so close to his ear.

“I was worried though,” she continued. “I thought our last dance isn’t going to happen.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said emphatically, recalling his desperate search for her on the dance floor.

This time Camille broke their cheek-to-cheek contact to try and look at him enquiringly. Richard instantly regretted saying anything.

“Tell me.” It was an order that brokered no argument. It was as if he was expected to explain or else he may not feel her cheek on his again.

“Um, you’re not the only one who was worried,” he started, quickly deciding to get it over with so they could go back to the business of dancing cheek-to-cheek.

“I was beginning to get frantic about finding you that I even braved this crowded dance floor and started calling out to you like that bloke from the 1950s Broadway play. But instead of Stella, I was calling your name.” He recounted, his eyes not really looking directly at her lest she saw his deep embarrassment at his behaviour.

“I would have loved to see that,” whispered Camille. “You calling out my name and looking desperate like Marlon Brando, I mean.” She placed her cheek on his cheek again, to hide her blush.

Richard couldn’t help but give in to a small smile. Both at the thought that Camille knew what play he was talking about and the fact that her cheek was on his once more. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I probably destroyed the reputation of our police force with that act.”

“I doubt it,” she said softly. They danced in silence then Camille remarked: “What’s the title of this song? It’s so romantic.”

“It’s called ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and it sounded like it’s Tony Bennett,” he replied.

“Hmm...I love it.”

Richard had been listening to the lyrics on the periphery as he talked with Camille. The words resonated with him and he thought it was an apt song for what he was feeling for her right at that moment. He supposed he should tell her.

“Actually, I...um...I felt the same way about...” the last word he said was drowned out by the DJ on the microphone, announcing the start of the countdown.

“Ladies and gents, brace yourselves for the New Year...” he shouted. “Are you ready?” Everyone on the dance floor cheered their lungs out.

Camille disengaged herself from his arms and went to a nearby table to grab a top hat decorated with a glittering ‘Happy New Year’ text on it. She placed it on Richard’s head, who just protested mildly. He saw that Camille’s tiara also had the same decoration.

“10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!” Everyone shouted “Happy New Year” as the balloons and confetti fell on them from the ceiling.

Camille was all smiles, her eyes shone brightly. Richard had never seen her so beautiful. He finally understood that he had fallen for her. Hard.

She turned to greet him, “Happy New Year, Richard!”

“Happy New Year, Camille,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile.

For a minute, they didn’t know what to do as they both reached out for each other’s hand. Richard was sorely tempted to kiss her on the lips but he realised quickly that it would be inappropriate. They were both colleagues attending a party as representatives of their police commissioner. So he stood there frozen and dismayed at the same time.

Camille sensed his reticence and the situation they were in. She moved closer to him and planted two quick but solid kisses on both his cheeks. He mimicked the gesture, hoping that anyone who happened to see them would think it a sort of ‘greeting each other’ kiss like the French usually did.

He distractedly reached for something out of her hair. “I’m glad you had me wear this hat. I didn’t think they would dump confetti on our heads. See, you’ve got a lot more on yours.”

Camille laughed and began to pick confetti off her styled hair. Richard helped her as best he could though he thought the whole operation was futile. Some confetti were still left on her hair.

The music started again. It was Ella Fitzgerald’s magnificent voice belting out, “Someone to Watch Over Me.”

“May I have this dance, Richard?” she asked, offering her hand to him.

Richard was confused at first. He thought the whole event was over after the New Year’s countdown. But looking around him, he noticed most people were still on the dance floor. He even saw some couple still kissing. He wondered if security would have to haul them away for too much public display of affection. Others were still at the bar, happily imbibing the various libations. Would they have to step in to stave off rowdy and drunken behaviour? He blinked at Camille again.

“Come on, our last dance of the year was cut short. Don’t you want to dance our first dance of the year now?” she said, hoping he would caught on soon.

Their first dance of the year? His mind reeled at the thought. “Of course,” he said as he reached for her hand. He was going to dance with her again. He couldn’t imagine it happening ever. But there they were in each other’s arms again, swaying to the music. He secretly relished the feel of her smooth back under his hand.

Camille, for her part, couldn’t contain her amazement at this turn of event. At first, she wasn’t sure if she would enjoy the party. Partly because it didn’t feel like a social event where you can relax and partly because they had to do PR work for their police force. So it felt like an undercover job to her.

But as the evening wore on, she was able to enjoy it more. And this was because Richard was there with her. She didn’t think he would enjoy himself at all but he was at his friendliest and most amicable she had seen him in any social setting. It surprised and delighted her.

She guessed their phone conversation a few nights ago had done wonders on him. She knew he loathed talking about personal things but that night he was open and receptive. She felt he finally took hold of the hand she was offering him for more than a year or so. Now, if only her true feelings could reach him.

But did she want it to reach him especially when she knew he would eventually leave? She wondered how he would react. Would he dismiss it or act like it was the most inappropriate and unethical thing to be involved in? Knowing him, it would probably be both, she thought ruefully. Sometimes, she wished he wasn’t like the ebb and flow of the waves, coming toward her and then retreating at the same time. It felt difficult and painful, especially when she realized she was in love with him.

“Are you getting tired?” Richard’s concerned voice came to her ear. She shook her head in reply as she absentmindedly ran her hand on his back.

She allowed Ella’s words to wash over her.

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see._

_I hope that he turns out to be_

_Someone Who'll Watch Over Me._

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood_

_I know I could be always be good_

_To one who'll watch over me_

_Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome,_

_to my heart he carries the key._

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed,_

_follow my lead,_

_Oh, how I need_

_Someone To Watch Over Me..._

 “Interesting song,” Richard said again. He seemed to have felt a certain melancholy on her shoulders and wanted to cheer her up by making conversation.

“It’s Ella Fitzgerald. She’s one of my favorite singers,” she just said.

“I didn’t think you love old time jazz singers, Camille,” he said in an almost sarcastic yet teasing tone. “I thought you limit yourself to Beyonce and the likes...”

Camille pinched him in the arm playfully. She couldn’t believe this was the same Richard Poole she worked with for more than two years. He seemed to be a different person here in Guadeloupe. This one was actively teasing and flirting with her. Was the champagne different on this island?

“At least, I know who Beyonce is,” she retorted, giggling. She felt Richard gave a little nonchalant shrug. “It’s just that Ella’s voice always makes this song sound so hopeful,” she told him. “Like she is pretty sure she’ll find him somewhere, somehow. As for me, I’m not confident if I ever will.”

Richard felt his heart clench at the obvious sadness in her voice. He didn’t think she would become pensive after the highs of the celebration earlier. What could have brought this on? He wondered. Was it the song? Why were they dancing to it then? Maybe he should get Camille out of here.

“Would you like to sit down for a moment?” he asked. This time he was more worried than he was letting on.

“No, Richard. I want to dance to this song with you,” she insisted.

“But it seems like it’s making you...um...upset?” he grasped at his words, hoping he was saying the right thing.

“No it was just...I was just sharing something with you,” she said, trying not to get frustrated and disappointed with him at the same time.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at...you know...” he paused. He felt ashamed to continue laying bare his inadequacies. “Why do you think you will never find someone to watch over you?” Richard asked earnestly as he suddenly recognized that Camille was revealing something personal and important to him.

She just shook her head. ‘Damn, I made her clam up. Way to go, Poole,’ he scolded himself. “Come on, tell me. I sincerely want to know especially when you are trying to help me get rid of my nasty habit of keeping silent about what I really want to say. It goes both ways, you know.”

She looked straight into his eyes, probably gauging if he was being serious or not. He stared back at her, unblinking. He could lose himself in those eyes and he wouldn’t mind it one bit. She gave him a sad smile. “Because I’m the doll with the wonky eye and crooked arm.”

“Camille,” he admonished. “That’s not a serious answer and you know it.”

She sighed. “Because I don’t think there is a man who would do that. I’m feisty, strong-willed, fiercely independent. These are not qualities that men look for if they want to watch over someone, right?”

“But you’re also compassionate, warm, kind hearted, stubborn to a fault but confident. Very confident,” he explained rather quickly when he felt Camille stiffened in his arms at the mention of being stubborn. “Maybe you don’t need someone to watch over you. Maybe you just need someone who will stay by your side, supporting and loving the whole person that’s you.”

Camille nodded. She was grateful for the man in her arms. Grateful to have fallen in love with him. She was sure that he was what she was looking for. But would he risk his job for her? And would she allow him to throw away a very important career opportunity for her? She didn’t have the answers right now. It was all becoming too scary and complicated.

“Perhaps. But it would be nice to be both loved and protected,” she said flippantly. “I guess, I would have to change into a damsel in distress to have both.”

It was Richard’s turn to stiffen in her arms. “You don’t need to change yourself for anyone. If that person truly loves and wants to protect you, he would accept you the way you are,” he said rather seriously.

Camille understood his meaning. It was such a simple advice but it held more weight coming from him. Of course, she won’t change for anyone. She always lived her life her own way. If she wanted to change, it would be because of herself and not for anyone. Maybe Richard deserved someone else who was safe, who won’t make things tangled and messy for him.

She unconsciously brought him closer and held him tighter as if she was hanging on to him for dear life. She wanted to remember every moment of this dance where she felt safe and secure in his arms.

* * *

 


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

The song ended and they reluctantly separated. The reality of where they were came back rushing to meet them so they had to rein in their exuberance and school their blissful faces back to being Saint Marie's Detective Inspector Richard Poole and Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey, just colleagues and friends. 

It was past 1:00am, but the party was still going strong. They didn’t see the familiar faces of Commissioner Picot or Mayne or the British consul and his wife.

“I think we better call it a night,” suggested Camille. She felt suddenly tired as if the party had zapped all her energy away.

Richard just nodded, surprised at Camille’s change in demeanour. He was sure there was something bothering her. She looked almost downcast and he was worried. She retrieved her studded clutch from its hiding place on their table. He was about to discard his New Year’s top hat when Camille asked him: “Don’t you want to keep it as a souvenir for our New Year’s Eve together?”

He obliged her, not wanting to start an argument. He carried the top hat in his hand and offered his other arm to her. She took it readily. And they walked out of the ballroom. The thick, balmy sea air immediately surrounded them. Richard was shocked at the intensity of it—the smell of the sea mingling with the scent of night flowers came to his nose. He breathed it in to steady himself.

“Are you all right, Richard?” Camille asked, feeling him step back.

He nodded. He was probably tired from all the dancing he did. But he didn't want to let go of Camille yet. He wanted to take her to the beach to help lift her spirits. “Would you like to walk on the beach before we go in our separate rooms?”

Camille looked at him and smiled. She wanted to decline his offer, thinking that spending more time with him would overwhelm her with so much emotion that she wouldn’t be able to keep it in check.

She was in danger of confessing her feelings to him. But the need to make this togetherness last for even a few more minutes had taken over her better judgment. She agreed. “A walk along the beach would be nice.”

She took off her shoes and walked barefoot on the sand. The beach was empty and secluded yet they could still hear the music coming from the ballroom. Most of the guests were either at the party, by the bar or in their rooms already fast asleep.

Camille breathed in the sea air, willing her mind to clear like the black sky above them.

“So where do you think Saint Marie is?” she asked Richard who was following behind her.

Richard looked up the night sky and found the North Star. If what he read about the geography of the Greater and Lower Antilles, Saint Marie would be in the far northeast of Guadeloupe. He pointed at a horizon dotted with lights from houses faraway.

“I think it’s somewhere over there,” he said tentatively. He wasn’t so sure because it was night time. And there was no way to prove if it was Saint Marie or not.

She looked at the direction where he pointed and seemed to accept what he said. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

“There are a lot of things I don’t know,” he said, standing beside her.

“Well, somehow you know more information than an average person,” she pointed out.

“Mundane information, mostly,” he said, contemplating if this was the right time to tell her something important. Just then, fireworks showed up on the island where Saint Marie was supposed to be. It lit up the night sky in pretty colors.

“Wow! Look at that! I didn’t know they would still launch fireworks after midnight,” said Camille, gazing out the horizon and admiring the light show.

“Probably some locals who are trying to finish off their leftover fireworks,” said Richard, not really looking at the island faraway.

“It’s beautiful,” Camille murmured.

“Yes it is,” Richard replied almost in a whisper. “Very beautiful.”

Camille glanced at him and smiled. He was looking straight at her. “You’re supposed to be looking at the fireworks, you know.”

“I know. But what I’m looking at right now takes my breath away,” he said, moving closer to her and reaching up to touch her cheek gently. He closed the gap and kissed her, uncertainly at first. He was waiting for her to push him off. To see if what he was doing would offend her.

But instead, Camille dropped her sandals and put her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer to her to deepen the kiss. They lost themselves in the ecstasy of the moment. Each one as voracious as the other. Their repressed, unexpressed feelings were set free to overwhelm them.

And overwhelm them, it did. Soon they found themselves wanting more—more kisses, more caresses, more bare skin. Richard started kissing down her neck, hands roaming all over her. His reason overridden by only one emotion, desire. The desire to have her. He couldn’t think. He didn’t want to. His feelings for her felt stronger than ever before. They were inexplicably intense and demanding.

“Richard...Wait! Stop!” It was Camille who was jolted to reality first. She didn’t want to forcefully push him away but she gathered all the willpower she could and disengaged both her arms off his shoulders so she could pull away from his embrace. “We can’t...we mustn’t...”

The move brought Richard back to his senses. He was instantly horrified at what he had done. “I’m so sorry, Camille, I didn’t mean...to harass you...or force you into something...I’m so sorry...”

“Richard, listen to me. It wasn’t about that. I mean, I have always wanted to...but this is not the place for it. People know us here, they have seen us. We’re officials of the Royal Saint Marie Police Force.” Camille struggled to keep herself focused so she could make him understand the place and situation they were in.

Richard realized what she was saying. He ran his hand over his tousled hair and straightened his bow tie. He took out his handkerchief to wipe his face. All the while, trying to find a rational reason why he had lost control as he did. He was too ashamed to face Camille, too ashamed to have put her in an almost career-ending situation.

“I’m so sorry, Camille. I got caught up in the moment. It shouldn’t have happened. It was inappropriate. I’m your superior officer. I should have known better. It was my fault. I take full responsibility,” he said, catching his breath and willing his voice to sound normal. He was looking anywhere but her.

Camille remained silent, watching him struggle to regain his usual straight-laced, strictly by-the-book self. Didn’t he even listen to a word she said? The issue wasn’t about the rules or the impropriety of the superior-subordinate relationship. The issue was, they simply couldn’t be intimate in their present location given that they were in a place where important people knew them.

But she wasn’t surprised by his reaction, being a stickler for the rules as he was. She was sure that he was going to do his usual thing, retreat within himself and pretend it didn’t happen. She bet from now on he wouldn’t be able to look at her without feeling guilty or awkward because of his ‘supposed’ transgression. Then if he couldn’t take it anymore, he would probably ask for a transfer faraway from Saint Marie. She pushed down a growing sense of helplessness inside her as she waited for him to get back to his old self.

Richard, on the other hand, was an embodiment of turmoil. Eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as he massaged his temple distractedly. After a few minutes, he finally felt himself again, all composed and in control. He glanced at Camille and asked worriedly: “Are...are you all right?”

When she didn’t answer. He looked at her properly and saw both sadness and anguish reflected on her face. It looked as though she was about to cry. Did his impropriety hurt her?

She softened her features and nodded. “I think it would be best to go back to our rooms on our own," she said as she picked up her shoes and walked past him. "So I’ll go ahead first...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She picked her way to the lobby without looking back.

Richard was left behind, feeling dejected. He watched her disappear out of his sight, cursing at his ineptitude to comfort her. He paced back and forth on the beach, clasping and unclasping his hands. It was the first time, he felt lost and unbridled in her presence.

Everything that he had been holding in came pouring out. But instead of words that he had meant to say to her, he kissed her. That one single act opened the floodgates of emotions he couldn’t express. He couldn’t stop it. It was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. And he wanted it.

He wished he could explain this to Camille. But he didn't trust his self-control anymore. He was too afraid he might do something they would both regret. He was grateful for her self-restraint. His action would have caused them their jobs and brought shame to Saint Marie’s police force. It was the first time that he wished he wasn’t in this job with her, that he wished they had met in a different place and under different circumstances.

But he dismissed the thought immediately as it came. What was he thinking? Did he prefer not to have met Camille at all? He shook his head, he didn’t want that at all. He would rather have met her than not have met her. It was just that to love her, to be with her would bring difficulties to both their professional lives. He rubbed his forehead, willing himself to think clearly but no coherent thought came, only swirling memories of this wonderful, painful, now complicated New Year’s Eve they had together.

He decided to go to his room and try to sleep everything off. He didn’t think Camille would talk to him again or even answer his text. Perhaps, it was a good thing. He needed to think things through. He fervently hoped tomorrow would bring them both clarity.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you thought I would lull you into romantic complacency. Remember when I mentioned that this fanfic had become a different beast all together? Think of this story like an As Seen on TV commercial with the catchphrase: "But wait, there's more!" *insert evil, maniacal laughter here* See you after two days. >;-)


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

Camille reached for her phone to look at the time and groaned. It was 8:30am. She didn’t hear her alarm and now she was too late for the first ferry to Saint Marie. After what happened last night with Richard, she decided to runaway. 

There were just so many complicated emotions overwhelming her that she didn’t think she could face him today. But it looked like fate was not on her side. She looked up the ceiling, she wished she could go back to sleep and wake up to find it was all a dream. A headache was beginning to make its presence known.

The bright Caribbean sun blinded her and she pulled the covers over her head. A text notification alerted her of a new message. It was probably from Richard, she thought, if he didn’t decide to runaway to Saint Marie first. No getting around it, she would have to face him. Another alert. What did he want? A nice breakfast get-together? She reached for her phone irritatedly and read the messages.

‘I know it’s early. But we need to leave the hotel now,’ said Richard’s first text message. The next one: ‘Meet you in the lobby at 9:00am.’

Something about the formality and succinctness of the messages made Camille jumped out of her bed quickly. Headache forgotten, she swiftly took a shower. She gathered all her things and placed everything in her overnight bag, all with military precision.

She inspected the dress she wore at the party and was glad she had the sense to place it in the garment bag despite being physically and emotionally exhausted last night. She carefully folded the bag and pulled the zipper around it.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Tired, puffy eyes from lack of sleep and hair frizzier than usual. She checked her phone, there was still time to fix herself a cup of coffee and put on a little makeup. She tied her hair to tame it. She would have to deal with it later when they are on the ferry.

She assumed there was a murder case. This was probably why Richard’s messages were terse and official. If it was, then it was a good thing. Not that she was thankful someone got murdered but at least, they would have something to distract themselves as they sort through what happened last night. 

It wasn’t like it was such a big deal to her, but she knew to Richard it was. He would need time to process his feelings about it. And given how he was in this department, he would take quite some time, probably a week, a month or maybe a few months.

She stopped herself from letting out a frustrated sigh. ‘Stop thinking about it. You have work to do,’ she told herself as she checked herself in the mirror again. She put her serious and official DS Bordey face on. Yes, now wasn’t the time to think of personal issues. A crime needed to be solved.

She gave her hotel room a once over to make sure she didn’t forget anything. Satisfied, she put her overnight bag on her shoulder, carried the garment bag with her other free hand and stepped out the door to go to the lobby.

Surprisingly, the hotel lobby wasn’t crowded. Probably the New Year revelers were still in their beds, sleeping in. Lucky them, thought Camille. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Richard, wearing his usual woolen suit and looking out to sea. He had his hands clasped behind him, just standing there with his back to her.

She watched him fondly. She knew she could no longer deny her feelings for him even if he was the most impossible man in the whole of the Caribbean. She berated herself for thinking unofficial thoughts. She put on her serious face, took a deep breath and called out to him: “Sir!”

Richard spun around in surprise. He had been nervous about meeting her this morning. Truth be told, his first impulse was to runaway to Saint Marie on the early morning ferry. But he stopped himself. That was what he usually did at the first sign of embarrassment or awkwardness, didn’t he? Always running and hiding away.

In fact, it was how he dealt with things for most of his life and he was sick of it. So against the loud protestations of his usual self, he decided to stay put and tough it out. He was a professional, after all.

But he didn’t think he would be stupefied at the sight of her. She was wearing her usual casual clothing, her hair tied back and her face radiating a serious demeanour. But good god, she looked even more ravishing.

He managed to give her a curt nod, schooling his mouth into a tight line. They got work to do. “Sergeant! Let’s go. The taxi is waiting for us,” he said to her as he wheeled his case toward the entrance.

Camille nodded in understanding. “How about your tuxedo?” She asked wanting to make sure such details were taken care of.

“I already had the hotel take care of it. They will send it back to the place you got it from,” he said, all businesslike. When he noticed Camille’s enquiring look, he added: “I saw the information in the garment bag.”

“Good. But didn’t we need to check out first?” she asked again as he followed him out of the lobby.

“No need. I’ve already done it and even got the receipts,” he answered as he opened the boot of the taxi and put in his case. He reached out a hand to signal to Camille to give him her bags.

She hesitated for a second as if deciding whether she wanted to get her bags in the trunk or not. The thought of being comfortable in the back seat won out as she hand them over to Richard.

“So have we got any information about the case?” Camille said as she opened the door to the back of the taxi.

Richard paused, quite unsure what to say. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to our destination. Now get in, we are already running late.”

Camille furrowed her brows. It wasn’t exactly protocol to not have any initial information about a case. Was it about a dead body? A robbery? Or an accident? Perhaps, Richard didn’t want to discuss the case when a civilian was around such as the cab driver. He was always like that, a stickler for the rules.

She got in the back and left the door open, assuming Richard would join her. But Richard only closed the door and opted to sit on the front passenger seat. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘There it is, that awkwardness. The not wanting to be near me ever again,’ she thought unhappily. Typical Richard. She settled into the back seat and fell silent.

Richard, on the other hand, was regretting his decision to seat in the front. It looked like he was avoiding her when, in fact he just didn’t want to answer the questions she might have about the case. Plus, he needed to be focused. He felt the nearness of her would distract him from the job. He rigidly looked forward, not wanting to converse with her.

Camille closed her eyes, thinking of resting them for a bit more. She thought she just dozed off for a minute or two but she actually napped for 20 minutes. She looked out the cab window. Why were they taking so long to get to the docks? The towns going by looked unfamiliar, too.

“Sir, this isn’t the way to the ferry terminal. Where are we going?” She suddenly asked as she sat up straight, looking around her in bewilderment.

Richard hunched his shoulders defensively. This was going to be tricky but he had to stand his ground. He didn’t want the cab driver to be privy to the information he got. “I know, Sergeant. I cannot discuss the details with you right now because we are with another person. But we are almost there. I assure you I’ll tell you everything when we reach our destination.”

Camille crossed her arms across her chest in annoyance and stared hard at the back of his head. He did’t even look at her when he said that, so how could she trust him? She tried a different tactic by asking the driver where they were going in French.

The driver answered her that he was given strict instruction by her boss (who was the one paying for the trip and putting in a little extra tip) to not answer her questions. This time, she huffed in annoyance. The driver only gave her a cheeky grin in response.

‘Are they working on a case or not? Where are they going? What is he up to?’ she  thought grimly. She had a strong urge to unleash her growing frustration on Richard. But it might turn out that they were really going to investigate a case. Perhaps, a murder so big and scandalous that utmost secrecy and privacy were required by the higher-ups.

Still, she was growing anxious and restless. Why couldn’t Richard just reveal where they were going, it wasn’t as if things would get compromised if he mentioned the place to her. She crossed her arms tightly around her. Fine, she would wait a little bit more.

Twenty-five minutes later, they turned off from the main road into a one-lane sandy road, facing the sea. They pulled into a rather large acred property with a colorful, bed-and-breakfast style house in the middle of the courtyard. Richard got out of the taxi quickly and opened the boot to retrieve their bags and cases. Camille followed suit, curiously looking at the house.

He wanted to get off the vehicle before Camille did. Good thing, he already paid the driver beforehand. When he closed the boot, the driver drove off, leaving him precariously holding on to his case and Camille’s bags. “Here you go, Sergeant,” he said as he handed her the bags. Then he purposely strode inside the house, which had a welcoming area with a receptionist on duty.

“Mr. Clemens?” she asked as she slid an electronic key card toward him. Richard just nodded and said his thanks. “I assume, sir, you know where it is.”

“Yes, I have a general idea. I think we can manage from here. Thank you very much,” he said curtly as he walked outside of the house.

The huge property was dotted with private cottages far enough from each other to be secluded. Each had a terrace facing the sea. The walkway paths leading to each cottage had been nicely landscaped. Richard walked resolutely ahead while Camille followed behind him without saying a word.

But she couldn’t keep her growing suspicion and frustration at bay any longer. She stopped in the pathway and said, loud enough for Richard to hear: “Sir, what are we doing here? What’s going on? Why are we here? Are we working on a case or not?”

Richard had wondered when would Camille fire her questions at him. He was waiting dreadfully for them as soon as they walked out of the house. He mistakenly thought that she could hold them in until they were inside the cottage. But apparently, the whole ‘withholding information from her until the very end’ wasn’t a good idea at all.

“Richard! I swear if you don’t tell me what I need to know. I’m going to leave and go back to Saint Marie without you even if I have to walk all the way to Pointe-a-Pitre!” She was now holding on to her bags tightly, trying to contain her anger.

“All right. All right. I’m sorry. There is no case. This whole thing is my idea. I just want us to be able to talk in a place where no prying eyes can see us or busybodies gossiping about us,” he said desperately. His authoritative voice wavered at the sight of her piercing brown eyes.

“I swear, Camille, I have no intention of seducing you by bringing you to this place. It was the only idea that came to my mind last night as I laid on my bed unable to sleep. Now that I think about it, it is wholly inappropriate. I just want us to talk things through before we get to Saint Marie. But if you want us to go back to Saint Marie without settling things, then so be it.”

Camille stood there, stunned into silence. She was massaging her temple, trying to stave off the headache that was making its presence known again. She didn’t know whether to slap or kiss the Englishman silly for his uncharacteristic plan of action. Goodness, this impossible man kept pulling out one surprise after another on her.

“Okay,” she finally said.

“Okay we go back to Saint Marie without settling things? Or okay for us to stay here and talk things through?” Richard asked, holding his breath.

“Okay, we can talk things through in there,” she said, gesturing at him to continue to the cottage. She bit her lower lip to stop an incoming smirk from forming on her face. Clearly, her anger was dissipating at Richard’s unusual and so-not-him behaviour. Perhaps, there was hope for them yet.

* * *

 


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

Richard opened the cottage and walked in, placing his case by the door. He proceeded to open the windows to let the stuffy air out. He would have to close them again to run the air-conditioning. He paid nearly a fortune for a night’s stay here, he might as well enjoy the most important amenity to its fullest.

Camille inspected the rooms. Everything looked luxurious and expensive. A gentle sea breeze wafted into the living area. She went to the terrace and look out to sea. Why on earth did he choose this place? They could have just talked in a cafe in Pointe-a-Pitre. Was he really that worried about losing his job? Or the gossip that would ensue?

It wasn’t like they would be making out in a cafe. To most people, they would probably just look like a non-couple having a meal together. Him in a suit and her in casual clothing. How ridiculous was that? She sighed.

Still, it was a beautiful place. Did he think the setting look romantic in the brochure so that was why he chose it? ‘Who am I kidding? It was only a knee jerk decision that brought us here, not a careful or conscious planning,’ she thought.

She felt Richard standing by her side. He stood a short distance from her, his arms clasped around his back. He was also looking out to sea. ‘Nice view, huh?” he said out of the blue.

“Mmmm,” Camille managed to say not taking her eyes off of the horizon.

“Would you like some tea, coffee or a cold beer?” Richard offered, reminiscing their time together in his shack, hanging out after a successful resolution of a case. Their relationship then was simple and less complicated.

“I’m actually hungry. I haven’t eaten any breakfast when we left the hotel at Pointe-a-Pitre,” Camille said matter-of-factly.

“Oh right. So sorry about that. I forced you out of bed early and I didn’t even let you have breakfast. Let me call for something. I’m sure they have room service here,” he said, going back inside to call for a late breakfast order. He went back to where she was and said: “It’s on its way. Are croissant, ham and eggs all right with you?”

Camille just nodded. She stole a glance at him. He looked tired, almost haggard, and he seemed less chipper now than when they were leaving the hotel. “So what made you think of taking me here to talk?”

He didn’t look at her as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation for the completely impulsive move he did. “I can’t sleep last night. I was trying to think things through clearly but nothing seemed to make sense. I wanted to talk to you but I knew we needed some time to process what happened...”

“And?” Camille gently prodded.

“And I thought it would be easier to talk when there are no people we know within a mile of us or something. I read about this isolated place in a travel magazine in my hotel room and figured, why not?” he said wryly. He wiped the sweat off his brows, he was feeling a bit winded and dizzy from lack of sleep.

Camille sensed his discomfort. “Let’s go inside and turn on the air-conditioning. You look like you could use some of it right now.”

Richard nodded in agreement. Camille made him take a seat as she took care of closing the windows and turning on the air conditioner. The cooler air felt good and he breathed with satisfaction.

Camille sat on the couch opposite his seat. “Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked, a look of concern on her face.

“Well, nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to it, you know. When we solve a particularly baffling case, I usually don’t sleep for days, remember?” He said, trying to sound casual.

“This isn’t a baffling case, Richard,” Camille pointed out. “I will not talk to you until you had a decent amount of sleep.”

“But we can’t waste time. We need to go back to Pointe-a-Pitre for the last ferry scheduled for Saint Marie this late afternoon,” he protested. “I have to call the taxi driver back to tell him what time to pick us up.”

“And you think you could make sense of our serious talk on no-sleep at all?” asked Camille.

Richard didn’t say anything. He admitted he was suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline of planning the whole thing and successfully getting her here had left. He was running low on energy. He sighed. “I guess, I could use a quick kip. Would you wake me after an hour or so?”

Camille nodded. “You better take the bed. It’s more comfortable there. I’ll wait for my breakfast.”

He was too tired to protest, so he just trudged into the bedroom. But before he went in, he said: “Camille, I really want us to talk. I have some things I want to tell you that I didn’t get a chance to last night. Because of what happened...”

“I understand. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you,” she said immediately and snap pointed him to the bedroom.

When Richard closed the bedroom door behind him, Camille got down to business. She would have to call her mother. It was a risk she had to take.

She worried she was going to open herself to her mother’s interrogation the minute she told her where she was and who she was with. But somebody had to support their alibis for not showing up in Saint Marie as scheduled.

At first, she contemplated on telling her maman an elaborate lie to cover her not coming home on time like visiting a friend or former coworker. As for Richard, she could say he decided to tour Guadeloupe on his own. But she could never lie to her mother. She was much too sharp for that.

The doorbell rang and she went to open it. A woman was at the door carrying a tray of food. Camille took the tray off her hands and thanked her. The smell of the food was inviting. Well, she had better eat first before she tackled that phone call.

After half an hour, she drank the last of her coffee. She fiddled with her phone, rehearsing what she would say in her head. Why was it difficult to explain things about Richard to her own mother? Was it because she kept denying what her maman kept pointing out so many times?

She called her mother’s number.

“Allo maman,” she greeted.

“Camille, I was about to call you. How was the party? Are you coming back in time for lunch? I could cook your favorite meal...”

It was typical of her mother to ask her one question after another, she was clearly dying to know what happened at the party. She didn’t know why she had to question her when she could just call Commissioner Picot and ask her all about it.

No, her maman wanted the nitty gritty details. The delicious gossip, which she can provide. But she would have to leave all that for another time. She needed to keep the conversation to a minimum and only focused on her original intention.

“The party went well. I will tell you about it when I get home. Commissioner Picot sent her regards. She can’t wait to get together with you in March,” she told her mother. That was good, short and to the point.

Catherine didn’t seem faze by her curt answers. “So are you coming back in time for lunch?”

The most important question that she needed to answer carefully. “No, maman. I won’t be able to get back to Saint Marie by lunch time. I will come back later this afternoon.”

If Catherine sensed her daughter’s uncertainty, she didn’t let her know in her voice. “Oh I see. How about Richard? Are you coming back together with him? Or has he already gone back to Saint Marie ahead of you? Really that man, he wants to leave Saint Marie as soon as he gets here but when he goes to another island, he can’t wait to get back here. So how did he do in the party anyway?”

“You’d be surprised he did well, maman. He was friendly and sociable the whole night. Not one complaint.” Camille couldn’t help share. She was proud of him for making the effort.

“Oh that’s good. Then he will be in a good mood when he comes back,” said Catherine. “Is he on his way then?”

“Um, no maman. We’ll be coming back together this afternoon,” she said casually.

“Oh so you’ve decided to give him a tour of Guadeloupe?” her mother asked, suspicion was now apparent.

“Something like that,” Camille was forced to say.

“It’s not something like that, is it Camille?” Catherine said in a serious tone. Then she gasped: “Did you two got drunk and slept together after the party?!”

“Maman!” admonished Camille, almost shouting on the phone. Realizing that she might wake Richard, she lowered her voice in a whisper. “It’s nothing like that. You know how inappropriate that is, especially when we’re staying in a hotel paid for by our police force?”

“All right, so you didn’t sleep together,” said Catherine nonchalantly as if ticking off a mental checklist. “But something happened, am I right?”

Camille sighed, she forgot her mother was quick on the uptake. “We got caught up in the moment and we kissed. That’s it,” Camille said quickly.

“So what? It’s not news that colleagues at work tend to let loose in a party, especially on New Year’s Eve,” said Catherine. “It’s no big deal. Was he the one who kissed you first or did you kiss him?”

“Maman that’s not important right now. This is Richard we are talking about, the whole thing is a big deal to him,” Camille said. “I could feel his guilt and awkwardness when we’re together. How can we work like that? I know I can get over it, but I don’t know if he can.”

“So what are you both going to do?”

“He wanted to talk about it before we get back to Saint Marie. To reveal whatever feelings we have about what happened. At least, that’s what I think. He tricked me into coming into a secluded resort so we can talk privately.”

“What?! Camille, why did you agree? Are you going to be all right?”

“Maman, you know very well I could take care of myself. And Richard is too much of a gentleman to take advantage of me. After we kissed, he looked so guilt-ridden that coming up with this idea alone must have used up all of his courage.”

“I’m your mother I’m allowed to fear for your safety. But yes, I know you can defend yourself physically. But Cami, how about emotionally? He might hurt you. You might end up with a broken heart after this talk.”

Camille let out a breath. “I know that, maman. We are both taking risks. But at least, we’ll know where we stand professionally and personally. I’ve enough of this limbo of emotions I have for him.”

“Well, I think that’s brave of you both. If things don’t work out, I hope you can still remain friends and good working colleagues after it,” said Catherine, clearly meaning well.

“I hope so. Um, maman, if anyone asks why we still haven’t gone back to Saint Marie, please tell them I’m visiting former coworkers and Richard is touring Guadeloupe. Obviously, that’s a lie but I feel we need this time together to sort things out.”

“All right. Only if any one of your colleagues or the Commissioner asks. Text me when you’re on the ferry home. Where did he take you by the way?”

“It’s a resort out in Saint Francois,” said Camille, recalling the brochure she discreetly read at the welcoming area.

“My goodness, that’s 45 minutes away from Pointe-a-Pitre! Almost at the tip of the island. Why on earth did he choose to take you there? Perhaps, he has other adult activities he wants to do with you. Besides, talking, I mean,” teased Catherine.

“Maman please!” Camille rolled her eyes at her mother’s innuendo. She could be incorrigible at times.

“I just want you to lighten up. You sound like you’re too wound up and that is not like you,” Catherine reminded her. “Do you really like this man? Is he the one you want to spend your future with?”

“Maman, not another set of questions please. I’m already on the edge as it is. We may not even have a future. So I’m just readying myself for whatever outcome this talk will bring. Besides, a few hours isn’t enough for something deep like our future together,” Camille replied. “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Catherine smiled on the other line. She knew her daughter well and respected her judgment. If the two of them decided not to pursue a relationship, she would support that decision. “All right. But if Richard hurt you, he’ll never have tea in my bar ever again. Tell him that.”

Camille just shook her head and smiled. She could always count on her mother to keep her on her toes. She looked at her watch. It was 11:30am. “I got to go, maman. I need to wake Richard before he sleeps the whole day away and we don’t get to talking.”

“Okay, Cami. Remember to text me when you’re on your way home,” reminded Catherine.

“I will, maman. I’ll see you later,” Camille replied as she disconnected the call.

* * *

 


	19. Chapter 19

* * *

Camille looked at her mobile and noticed the battery was running low. She plugged it into an outlet. ‘I better get him something to eat and brew some tea,’ she thought. ‘I’ll wake him at around 12noon.’ She called the reception desk and ordered another room service for lunch. 

After the call, she sneaked a peek in the bedroom. Richard was lying on his side, all curled up with socks on his feet. Well, at least he took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt. She didn’t want to venture in, she might accidentally wake him. That would be another layer of embarrassment they would have to contend with. So she just gently closed the bedroom door.

A knock alerted her of the lunch that was being delivered to their door. She greeted the woman, who stepped in to place the tray in the dining table. She retrieved the morning tray and left. Camille surveyed the food, a simple chicken salad and soups, some toasts and a slew of fresh fruits. Knowing Richard’s aversion for seafood with eyes, she opted for something safe.

She checked her watch: 11:45am. She still had time to freshen up a bit and headed to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. She really could use some more sleep but if she did that now, she might not wake until evening. She decided to fix her hair instead.

She wondered how would this talk with Richard start. Would she have to initiate the conversation? How? Or would he do it himself? Well, he had taken several initiatives on his own lately—the kiss, this scheme, so perhaps he would do the opening salvo.

She would have to play it by ear. The last thing she wanted was to have him completely shut down on her. If that happened, they would have wasted the trip here. So she planned to temper herself if she wanted him to be more open and talk freely. She furrowed her brows. Why did it feel like she would be walking on eggshells?

After fixing her hair, she decided to check out the living area. There was a flat screen television and a component system with a CD player. She looked through the CDs on the shelf next to it. Not a bad selection, some easy listening, jazz standards and reggae, even classical music. She looked at her watch, it was 5 minutes to 12noon. ‘I better put the kettle on. He would probably want tea,’ she thought.

At noon, Camille opened the bedroom door. She hesitated. She could see Richard was still fast asleep. She loathed to wake him and for a second, she was waffling between waking him now and letting him wake on his own.

She decided not to step inside and just called his name by the door. ‘Richard,’ she said tentatively. Nothing. “Richard,” she said again, a bit louder. Still nothing. She sighed and berated herself for being timid. She walked into the bedroom. She stared at his sleeping face. He looked so relaxed and vulnerable. If only he could learn to relax, he would look younger and feel less grumpy.

“Richard?” she intoned. “Richard, time to wake up,” she said as she shook his shoulder gently. He stirred and slowly blinked his eyes. Camille’s face slowly came into his focus. He gave her a loving smile. Then his eyebrows shot up when he realized she was really there right beside the bed.

“Camille, sorry,” he said, quickly sitting up on the bed. He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s 12 noon,” Camille answered, smirking at him in amusement. She had quietly moved toward the open door, putting some distance between them.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep for two hours,” he said, reaching for his jacket and tie.

Camille gave him a look and said: “Be thankful I let you sleep for just two hours. I was planning on not waking you up at all. And please don’t put on the jacket and tie. We’re not going anywhere until we talk things through, remember?”

Richard just nodded. She was right. They were there to talk. How could he forget? It was his idea to bring her here in the first place. But for a minute, the domesticity of the situation made him feel light hearted and giddy. He followed her out wordlessly.

“Have something to eat first,” said Camille, indicating the food that were spread on the table. “I’ll get you your tea.”

“Oh you don’t need to do that, Camille. I can get it myself,” he protested.

“Why? You don’t trust me to fix your tea like maman does?” Camille challenged, placing  her hands on her hips in consternation.

“No, what I mean is you don’t have to do things for me that I can usually do for myself,” he said, trying hard to explain what he wanted to say to her. He glanced at her and saw she had an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to explain further.

“Ah I’m not making sense at all!” He paced back and forth in the room. “I...I always appreciate your offer of doing things for me, of taking the initiative even if I didn’t ask you to, just everything. I know I don’t say ‘thank you’ often enough.”

He put his hand on his mouth, willing it to choose its words carefully. “But what I meant to say is, you’re not my assistant or secretary. You’re a DS. And you’re my partner and colleague. I don’t like having you do mundane things for me. Like picking up my tuxedo for the party. I really can’t believe the Commissioner asked you to do that. He should have just told me. I could have taken care of it. I don’t understand why he had to bother you with it.”

Camille gave in to a small smile. So he was bothered about that all this time. She wished she could reveal to him what she really did but that would put the Commissioner in a bad light. He was already bothered by the fact that the Commissioner had given her an errand that seemed inappropriate of her rank.

She nodded in understanding as she steeped his tea. “I see where you are coming from, Richard. But we’ve both gone through being police recruits. So you should know that the higher-ups have the privilege of ordering us around, no matter how boring or demeaning it is. As long as it wasn’t illegal. They could even order us to clean the toilets with a toothbrush and we have to follow it without question. It is what it is until we rise up the ranks and get to have that privilege for a change.”

“Well, I won’t ever do something like that,” he muttered under his breath.

Camille brought his tea to the table. “Never say never. Who knows, you might get offered a promotion back in London. I’m sure there will come a time you will have to give such an order to one of your subordinates.”

Richard frowned at her. “I don’t know. That would be next to impossible. Me, getting a job back in London? I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

Camille just nodded and smiled sadly. “Nothing is impossible, Richard.”

He found himself watching her closely. Something about the sudden sadness in her voice made his heart ache.

“You better eat something before the food and your tea get cold,” Camille broke the silence.

Richard nodded and sat down by the table. “I guess, I’m a bit peckish,” he said, faking cheerfulness as he started eating. “How about you?”

“I’m still full from my brunch earlier,” she said, sitting across the table from him. She was nursing her own mug of tea in between her hands. She had looked at the time. It was already 12:30pm. Assuming Richard finished with his food at 1pm or so, they would have as little as three hours to talk before they would have to leave the resort at 4pm to catch the 5pm ferry to Saint Marie.

What could they resolve in a few hours? She was beginning to think that they would miss the chance to decide on something. Why was she worried anyway? She always prided herself of being unaffected by these sorts of things. Why was she afraid of not having a proper talk with him right here and now?

“How was the food?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off of her own worries.

“Quite tasty. Thank you for ordering it for me,” he said.

“See, you do say ‘thank you.’ It may be that you’re not noticing yourself doing it. But I notice it. I’m sure Fidel and Dwayne notice it, too.”

“Yeah, but sometimes my timing is off or the moment had passed and I can’t even say anything after the fact. It’s ridiculous, really. I’m more bothered by looking stupid than appearing rude and ungrateful.”

“Okay. As much as I want to lecture you about it, you have got to ease off on being self-deprecating. It’s not healthy for you and for anyone around you, you know,” she said in a teasing tone.

“Camille, I’m an Englishman. We are practically weaned off of tea, biscuits and self-deprecation,” he joked.

He marveled at how easily they slip into this companionable banter. After two years of working together, they had achieved a certain comfort level, a certain understanding although they still argue and bicker most of the time. With her, he wasn’t afraid to show his true self, little by little. He found she trusted her more than anyone. He wondered if she felt the same way.

* * *

 


	20. Chapter 20

* * *

 

Camille went to the kitchen to put her mug in the sink. She wanted to give Richard time to eat and for her to gather her thoughts. They didn’t have much time and maybe it would be best to get to the point. But how were they going to get there? She walked in the living area, absentmindedly going through the CDs again.

“Thank you.” She heard Richard say with feeling. She turned to give him a questioning glance. He stood up and walked to where she was, stopping at a distance from her that he was comfortable with. “Thank you for putting up with me. I know I can be a right pain in the neck often but still, you stuck by me. Thank you for choosing to understand this inane idea,” he made a sweeping gesture of his hand. “...um, and for not hating me over my transgression last night.”

“Richard, it wasn’t a transgression. You initiated it, that’s true. But I hardly call it a transgression when I was also a willing participant,” she pointed out gently.

“Oh?” he answered taking a minute to understand. “Oh.” He gave her a shy lopsided smile. “When you left, I thought you were mad at me for kissing you. It was inappropriate behaviour especially when we were in a place filled with respectable people who help and support our police force.”

“Stop right there. Let’s lay down some ground rules before we get in further with our talk. First, no more using the words transgression, inappropriate, fault, responsibility, superior officer, rules. Second, let’s drop our ranks of detective inspector and detective sergeant for now. We left those when we chose to enter this resort together. In here, we’re only Richard Poole and Camille Bordey. Do you agree?” she explained.

Richard thought for a moment. It seemed illogical to not have to consider the ranks on which their connection to each other was anchored. The very same ones that were making things complicated for them both. “Camille, it would be a bit difficult to leave out our work and who we are to each other when we talk about our relationship.”

“So what IS our relationship, Richard?” Camille clearly saw the opening and stayed with it. She sat down on the couch, waiting for him to tell her his thoughts on the matter.

“Um, right. Ah, I’m heading to that.” He wasn’t prepared for the question. He knew it would come up in their conversation but he didn’t think Camille would grab the bull by its horns. Of course, she would. Hadn’t he known her by now? He resisted the urge to shuffle on his feet and quickly sat across from her.

“You’re my partner and you’re a good friend,” he struggled. “Um, I’m very, VERY fond of you.”

“So that fondness caused you to kiss me, your partner and good friend, last night?” she asked with a straight face.

“Um, it was probably because of the champagne and the whole atmosphere of the night and...” Good god, he could feel the beginning of a disaster.

“Richard, you’re doing it again,” Camille reminded him, trying not to sound too annoyed or frustrated. “You promised you’re going to be honest with how you feel and say it outright.”

“Ah yes. I’m sorry. You know it’s hard to unlearn something that I’ve nurtured for so many years,” he chuckled. But when he saw Camille’s expectant face, he stopped.

“What I meant to say is, it wasn’t the champagne or the whole atmosphere of the night,” he said, looking straight at her. “It was because I wanted to kiss you so badly. I found myself drawn to you that I forgot where we were and what we were there for. I was caught off guard.”

He fidgeted with his hands, trying to logically rearrange the words that invaded his head and his heart. “You see, it has been a long time since I felt that way that I forgot what it was. But when I finally realized it, I repressed it because, you know, we work together. And I have no idea if you feel the same way. After our phone conversation, I finally admitted that I have feelings for you. I was going to tell you after the party, because I had to find out how you feel. But that night, instead of saying what I wanted to say, I let go of my reason and let my repressed emotions take over my action.”

“So, in other words, you had a bout of temporary insanity?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose so. I wasn’t in my right mind. I was acting quite not myself and...wait...hang on. It wasn’t temporary insanity, I mean I’m crazy about you, but I certainly am aware of the nature of my act...”

“Oh so, you ARE crazy about me?” Camille smiled mischievously. Richard had fallen into her trap. He, in turn, looked flustered as his cheeks turned red in embarrassment.

“Um, yeah, I did say that. I, um, I’m crazy about you. But it’s really more than that. You’re...you’re special to me and I’m wondering if you feel the same way about me?” said Richard, looking away from her as if he had said something awkward.

Camille smiled at him. Her heart soared at the knowledge that this pedantic Englishman had more-than-professional feelings for her. For a year or so, she tried hard to gauge how he felt for her but he didn’t even give her a clue. There were times, she thought he cared for her more than a colleague might. But as soon as she tried to probe him about it, he quickly closed himself up. Now he had just made a declaration and she was both elated and scared.

“I do feel the same way about you, Richard. For quite some time,” she told him sincerely.

Richard silently let out a breath. It was as if something heavy was just taken off his chest. Did he hear her right the first time? Did Camille say she had feelings for him? He didn’t know what to do with the emotions that were bubbling inside him. He urged his reason to keep his body in check (even though he so wanted to gather her in his arms and kiss her again). He didn’t want to ruin this moment with mere lust.

“But I don’t know if it will be enough of a reason to...” Camille broke into his thoughts. She couldn’t hold his questioning stare so she looked somewhere else. “Anyway, I’m assuming this is why we are here to talk...to do something about these feelings.”

She closed her eyes, silently berating herself for not being blunt. Honesty and directness were what they need because they didn’t have much time. But here she was being vague.

“To be honest, Camille. I don’t know what to do,” said Richard, running his hands through his hair in contemplation. “I hadn’t expected that our feelings are mutual. I was pretty sure that I haven’t got a chance with you and at the back of my mind, that was what I expected even though I wanted it so much to be otherwise. But now that I thought wrong, I don’t know where do we go from here.”

Of course, he wouldn’t know. Camille expected as much. They weren’t characters in a rom-com where everything fell into place once mutual like and attraction were revealed and then lived happily ever after. Their reality presented a much more non linear and very real scenario.

Their job and their ranks complicated matters, not to mention the no fraternization rule that would be rearing its ugly head at them. Where would their careers go if they pursue a romantic relationship?

She knew only too well that the female police officer would bear the brunt of such an affair. She had known fellow recruits who had been sacked or other female police officers who were demoted or were shipped out.

It was quite ironic that they were made to pay a high price while they were the most underpaid in the force. So what would happen to her carefully built career? She would probably never advance from being a DS or if she did it would come with a lot of baggage that she might as well quit the force.    

“Do you even want us to be together? What about the rules? What about our jobs? What if there’s a chance for you to go back to London and for me to do undercover work in Paris?” She blurted out. This talk with Richard was becoming a serious reflection of the consequences that they would face. Was she willing to sacrifice everything for him? How about him? Was he willing to do the same for her?

“Hang on a minute, I thought we’re not supposed to bring up the rules or our jobs into this,” Richard pointed out, confused.

“But you didn’t agree to the condition, remember? Besides, you are right. We cannot leave our jobs and ranks out of this because it is who we are. Everything, every consequence, every sacrifice, every choice hinges on the fact that we work in the same police department and are superior-and-subordinate at that,” Camille said. “Well that’s it, isn’t it? We don’t need to talk about it. It’s been decided for us. We shouldn’t pursue anything.”

Richard was surprised by her reaction. He could feel the anguish and hopelessness in her voice. What was the matter? He thought Camille would be happy but it seemed like she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Was she rejecting him or the situation they were in? He was beginning to get confused and angry at the same time.

“Hold on, Camille. We haven’t talked about this at length. Are you saying we shouldn’t be together then? So now that we’ve revealed how we feel for each other, you are suggesting that we don’t act on it and just leave it. I know I said I don’t know what to do but it doesn’t mean I...”

“Richard! I’m sorry but I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.” Camille interrupted, turning away from him.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. I need to get ready. We have about half an hour before the taxi comes back to pick us up and bring us back to Pointe-a-Pitre. Am I right?” she said, keeping her voice normal and neutral. She hurriedly went into the bathroom and close the door behind her.

She just want to escape from the numerous conflicting emotions she was experiencing. This was not a good idea at all, she thought and she placed the heels of her palm on her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. It would just make things awkward between them.

Richard sat motionless on the couch. ‘What just happened?’ he thought desperately. Did they come all the way here to decide to forget about their feelings and go on working together as if nothing was ever said or revealed? He stood up and walked to the closed bathroom door.

“Camille, please tell me what do you want?” There was a long silence on the other side of the door. A growing panic seized his insides. Were they already breaking up even before they start something?

“Richard, do you need to use the bathroom?” Camille asked, her voice sounding weary and sad.

“No, what I need is to talk to you. We aren’t done. I haven’t finished what I was trying to say earlier...”

“Please, Richard. Our time is up. We need to go back to Saint Marie,” she intoned. “If you don’t need the bathroom, please don’t stand by the door. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“All right.” He finally said, feeling defeated. “I guess, I’ll get ready.” He moved away from the door and went to the bedroom to put on his tie and jacket. His heavy heart wanted to insist that they talk, that they work things out. But his head told him to let it go and not push her.

He sat on the bed, fidgeting with his tie. This wasn’t part of his plan at all. He thought they would reach a decision that they were both comfortable with and take it from there.

But Camille seemed to be opposed to being together. Why? Was he being too eager? Too clingy? Was he expecting too much from her? Did he really want them to be together? He ran his hand over his face, willing himself to make a decision. God, what a fine, tangled mess they have gotten themselves into.

* * *

 


	21. Chapter 21

* * *

Richard paced back and forth in the bedroom, his mobile phone in hand. ‘Sod it,’ he thought. He quickly placed a call to the taxi driver he hired earlier. When that was done, he went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. 

“I’m done. I’ll be right out,” Camille’s muffled voice said. He could hear toiletries being put away. She opened the door with a put-on smile on her face. But all he noticed was her moist-lidded eyes. He hated to make her upset.

“The taxi’s here?” she asked as she looked at him and frowned. “Richard, why haven’t you put on your tie and jacket? We’re going to be late going back to Pointe-a-Pitre.”

“We’re not going back to Saint Marie today, Camille,” Richard said, imbuing a certain firmness in both his tone of voice and manner that he never used on Camille before. She would either hate him or put up with him for it. It was a gamble. He had to find out if she wanted them to work out or not. He prepared himself for the onslaught of her anger.

“And you made this decision without consulting me first?!” Camille yelled, anger and frustration mixed in with her self-doubt. “How could you be so selfish?!”

“Yes I did! And yes I am being selfish about it! I’m sorry,” he yelled back, losing his temper. “But I don’t understand why two people who just confessed they had feelings for each other can ignore the fact and carry on as if nothing happened!”

“A lot of people have done it, Richard! For them, it’s enough that their feelings were acknowledged. But because of circumstances beyond their control, they also accept that they can’t be together,” explained Camille.

“And is that what you want for us?” Richard asked bluntly.

“We don’t have a choice,” she said in defeat as she collapsed on the couch dejectedly.

“That’s not the answer to my question, Camille,” he said. His anger waning as he looked at her with concern. “You know something that you’re not telling me.”

Camille shifted in her seat without looking at him. Perhaps, she should just tell him.

“You will be offered a job back in London, Richard. It will come as early as six months but not later than two years, I suppose. The Met has finally realized their dumb decision to ship you out here in the Caribbean and is now planning to recall you to your beloved London for your brilliant detective skills,” she said.

“And you got this information from where?”

“From Assistant Commissioner Mayne himself when I was dancing with him, believe it or not. Well, I was actively fishing for information and what do you know, he took the bait and told me all about it.”

Richard just stood motionless. All the time he wasted on the internet, searching for open positions, all the frustration of sending out enquiries and looking for other boroughs outside of London that could take him in, was just upended by this one piece of news. The Met had finally recognized his work and wanted him back. In London, no less.

“Congratulations, Richard,” said Camille, interrupting his thoughts. She smiled at him sadly: “You did it. You’re going back to London.”

“Camille...” He said to her in earnest while shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “I...um, hold that thought, I just need to pop in the loo for a sec...sorry, it’s the tea...” Damn his body’s perfect timing. She just gave him a resigned look and waved him away. He quickly made a run for it.

Camille shook her head at his antics. She realized she loved him too much to ask him to sacrifice his career for her. It wouldn’t be fair to him. He had worked hard to gain this recognition. She was sure if he had no feelings for her, he would readily jump at the chance. He would probably even ask the Met how soon they could get him out of Saint Marie. He was only there temporarily anyway.

She gathered her bags and silently walked out the door. She would find a taxi and leave for Saint Marie without him. ‘I’m sure he could manage on his own,’ she thought. ‘He always does.’

Inside the bathroom, Richard scolded his body’s need to answer the call of nature at the most inopportune time. But he couldn’t really hold it in any longer. He had only himself to blame for drinking too much tea. He hoped Camille wouldn’t find it so amusing that it could serve as fodder for her teasing.

He washed and dried his hands thoroughly before walking out the bathroom. “I’m really sorry, Camille. I left in the middle of our conversation...I...” He stopped in his tracks. The living area was eerily quiet. “Camille?”

He didn’t need to search around the room to know that Camille had left. Her bags were missing. “Damn it!” He legged it out of the cottage two at a time, barely closing the door behind him. He forgot his tie and jacket and most likely his key card. But he had to catch her before she finds a taxi.

He went to the reception area first and asked the receptionist: “Um, have you seen the woman I was with earlier? Did she pass through here?”

“Yes, sir. She said she was leaving. I asked her if I should call a cab for her but she refused. She said she would just walk to the main road and get one herself,” the receptionist said.

“Um, how long was that?” he asked anxiously. He was mentally calculating how fast Camille could walk given the two rather big bags she was carrying.

“About 10-15 minutes ago. She couldn’t have gone far, sir,” reassured the receptionist.

But Richard knew Camille wanted to runaway from him and from the situation they were bound to confront. Given that kind of motivation, he was sure she would walk fast and reach the main road in no time. By then, it would be too late.

“Do you have a bike I could borrow?” he asked suddenly.

“You mean a dirt bike, sir?”

“No. I mean just a bike I can pedal. If you have one, may I borrow it?”

“Oh we have mountain bikes we rent out. You can use that. Let me get it for you.” The receptionist disappeared in the back room and came back a few seconds later, wheeling the mountain bike.

“Um, thanks. I’ll pay the fee later,” he said as he grabbed the mountain bike and expertly rode it out of the house.

“Sir, you need a helmet!” reminded the receptionist.

“No need,” he shouted back as he pedaled the bike on the sandy road. It was a good thing it was a mountain bike, which was perfectly suited for such a terrain. But it took him a while to get used to it. It was nothing like what he had during his Cambridge days, which was a light, medium-sized Ridley Fenix 7005. He cycled between lectures in that speedy thing.

But this mountain bike was definitely giving him a run for his money. He already shifted to middle gear but it still felt like he was putting so much energy on his cadence. Perhaps, it was the combination of heat, his age, slight weight gain and the uneven terrain that was making his pedaling inefficient.

Yet he cycled on. There was only one thing on his mind, to get to Camille and stop her from running away and denying her feelings. It was funny that he found himself in a reverse situation. He was usually the one who would run away and Camille was the one who would try to stop him. Not that she was successful but she would show up after the fact and give him a thorough dressing down for it.

He didn’t like her scoldings but he would endure all that and more because he knew she was the only person who cared enough to do that to him. He finally caught a glimpse of her, walking resolutely despite the heavy bags on her shoulders. He pedaled harder.

“Camille!” he shouted. She didn’t stop or turn around. “Camille, wait!” Still, she kept walking.

“I SAID WAIT! DAMN IT!” He stopped the bike a few feet away from her and just chucked it on the side of the road. He was fuming. She wanted to run away from him that much that she couldn’t even be bothered to stop for a second or two?

He half-jogged and half-walked to catch up to her. And when he did, he grabbed her arm almost roughly and swung her around to face him. He was about to shout at her for being the most stubborn, incomprehensible woman he had ever known.

But he stopped when he saw her face streaked with tears. His heart ached for her and he did the unimaginable. He wrapped his arms around her tight as she cried.

“I’m sorry, Richard...I’m so sorry,” Camille said between tears. “You’ve always wanted to go back to London and now there’s a chance for you. I can’t let you waste it. It’s a good career move. Maybe the Met would even give you a promotion.”

“Camille,” he breathed out gently. “Why are we talking about something that’s only a possibility? There’s a chance it may not happen at all. But what we have, what we revealed to each other today is right here. It’s happening now. You are all I ever cared about and will be caring about because I truly am deeply and madly in love with you.”

He never thought he could say those words to her. He threw his reticence and reserve out the window for this one and only opportunity to change the course of his humdrum life. He may get burned again. He may swear off women for good after her.

But he chose change and Camille was a big part of it and nothing mattered except her. Jobs, ranks, rules and London be damned. Now that he had laid all his cards down, it was up to Camille to play the hand. And he anxiously hoped she would.

* * *

 


	22. Chapter 22

* * *

Camille’s resolve crumbled in the face of Richard’s honest confession. “Who are you? What did you do to Detective Inspector Richard Poole?” she whispered as she held on to him tightly. 

Here he was being truthful, taking the initiative and not shying away for a change. These were all the things she wanted him to learn and to experience in the two years they had known each other. How could she deny her love for him now?

“There’s only Richard here. The detective inspector is on a holiday,” he whispered back. “So...um...if you want to tell this Richard how you really feel about him at this moment, he would be perfectly happy...”

Camille broke their embrace a little and leveled him with a look to which he quickly said: “Or not...maybe later...he could wait until...you know...”

“Richard, you’re doing it again,” she reminded him.

“Well, I did wholeheartedly confess my feelings to you a while ago. Not to mention, I somewhat told you I’m crazy about you when we were at the cottage earlier. So all I wanted is a confirmation of your feelings for me if you really have...or if you’ve decided it’s not worth it...or you know...”

He was blustering now, the earlier confidence gone in the light of Camille’s non-reply. He doubted if it was even a good idea to have told her he was in love with her outright. He couldn’t look at her in embarrassment.

“Richard!”

He was startled by the familiar French lilt in her voice, the one she used whenever he had done something to displease her. He stared at her brown eyes, which had started another stream of tears down her cheeks. He felt worried for a second until he saw her wide smile.

“I love you. I always have and I always will.” She simply said.

He smiled boyishly at her. “That’s...that’s fantastic...I mean, great...more than great...I...”

Camille tsked, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him thoroughly. At that point, Richard didn’t think it was possible to lose the capacity to speak. His mouth had no words. The familiar feeling of her soft lips against his overwhelmed his brain and reason. He just want to lose himself in her kiss.

They finally slowed down but neither one didn’t want to break off the kiss. Their lips still sought each other as they slowly disengaged from their closeness. When they stopped, Richard’s eyes were half closed and a grin hang on his face. Camille snickered, satisfied with her handiwork.

“Camille,” he admonished. “As much as I wanted to do that again, I’m afraid we can’t. We mustn’t...”

“Why not?” Camille asked in surprise.

“We’re on a roadside in the middle of nowhere and it’s quite hot. Not that being with you doesn’t make me hot. But I just cycled like mad to catch up to you and I’m all kinds of sticky and sweaty and not to mention I have a ton of sand in my shoes...”

He stopped, feeling like he was killing the moment by whinging all of a sudden. He looked at her worriedly. But Camille just chortled. She couldn’t help it, the man she loved was still the same man she knew—pedantic, nitpicky, easily irritated by the sun and sand and whinged at every opportunity. She stood away from him as she wiped tears off her eyes, still laughing.

Richard shook his head at her in resignation. The woman he loved would always find amusement at his discomfort. But he found he could live with that if only to see her laugh. He felt bereft of her nearness, so he grabbed her by the waist and brought her close to him again. “As I was saying...” he whispered so very close to her ear. “Would you like to go back with me to the resort and enjoy the air-conditioning? I paid quite a sum for it, you know.”

Camille was giggling again. “Is that the only thing you want to enjoy with me?” She asked provocatively. She felt his body become rigid like a statue and thought she had said something too forward given the newness of their mutual confession. “I’m just joking...I take it...”

“Well, I do have one other thing in mind after we finish our talk,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. He stopped another bout of her giggling with a quick, passionate kiss.

“That’s a good idea,” Camille said, catching her breath after their lips parted. “Going back to the cottage, I mean. We need to talk some more.”

Richard grabbed her overnight bag off of her and they walked toward the resort. He picked up the bike he threw by the roadside and inspected it for any damage. Satisfied that he didn’t total the bike, he wheeled it as they walked side by side.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t notice it earlier. Are you worried about me leaving Saint Marie because of the impending Met job offer?”

Camille just gave him a slight nod. She was ashamed of walking out on him when things got overwhelming. She didn’t know how to explain to him the conflicting emotions she had and realizing at the same time they might have no future together.

“I just thought you’ve always wanted to go back to London. It would be selfish to not let you grab at the chance, you know.” She furrowed her brows, willing herself to be more articulate so she could be honest with him. “I figured, it would be foolish to start something only to be separated in the end.”

Richard fell silent. Camille’s last statement was loaded with possibility of them not going through with their new relationship. If he thought about it logically, it made sense. He probably would have even suggested it. It would really make both their lives easier if they did. But he refused to be discouraged. Not now when he had a lot to lose.

“What do you want, Camille? Let’s leave out the concerns for our ranks, job offers and the rules for now. And tell me what do you truly want?”

Camille stopped walking and looked at him with a serious expression on her face. He turned sideways to look at her. “I want us to be together.”

He couldn’t help give in to a small smile when he heard her words. It was a relief to hear it from the woman whom he thought he didn’t have a chance in the world. But mostly because he also wanted to be with her.

“Well then, we could do that,” he said waggishly.

“Richard...” This time it was Camille’s turn to reproach him. “This is serious. We may not have a career to speak of. You’ll waste your chance getting a promotion and going back to London. I’ll waste my chance at having a clear-cut career path.” She resisted the urge to get frustrated with him again. 

“Look. I know there will be things we need to seriously figure out when we go into this relationship. But let’s deal with the simple ones first. For instance, I only need two things: one is to be with you and two is to solve crimes. Wherever it is and however form it takes. I don’t want anything more,” he said seriously.

Camille didn’t say a word but just walked on. He worried that she did not believe him so he felt the need to add more to what he said. “I know you think I want to go back to London so badly and yes, I do. But only for a short winter vacation not to stay there for good.”

“So you don’t want to leave Saint Marie?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound neutral and unassuming.

“I have a myriad of reasons to stay in Saint Marie. You are foremost amongst them.” He said truthfully. “When I escorted Vicky Woodward back to London, I didn’t think it would bother me so much to leave. But it did. London was lovely and cold but it was also lonely and isolating. I mean how could a city teeming with people almost every day and night be lonely and isolating?”

He remembered standing outside his old station in Croydon and feeling so unsettled that he couldn’t will himself to step inside. It looked alien to him and made him ill at ease. In the end, he just stayed in the SOCA office most of the time, coordinating the case from there.

At night, he would lay in his hotel room, trying to imagine the sound of waves from outside his window. He even secretly wished Camille would show up like she usually did at his beach shack. But he knew that was impossible. She was back in faraway Saint Marie. He admitted he miss the damn place, not because of the weather, the sand or the insects, but because she was there. 

“I wondered what changed? I didn’t realize it right away but when I was on the plane back, psyching myself up for the heat, the sand and the insects, I had an epiphany. It was ME who changed. In Saint Marie, I actually look forward to going to work and seeing colleagues I like and one, in particular, whom I fell in love with.”

He glanced at Camille, blushing profusely. “I mean I have friends I could trust and go liming with here. It has been a long time but I feel I finally belonged somewhere. I doubt the Met could offer something that would top all that.”     

Camille finally smiled a genuine smile. She had no idea Richard had already come to appreciate Saint Marie in his own way. She didn’t glean any of it from his everyday demeanour even though she worked closely with him. He was very good at masking his feelings that sometimes it was hard to decipher him, even for her who had a knack for figuring people out.

“So how about you? It seems your mentors expect a lot from you. Is this why you are worried about your own career, too?” he asked, realizing that perhaps Camille had more to sacrifice than him.

“Well, an affair with a superior officer is already controversial enough but when you’re a woman the consequences get harsher. It would be like a permanent stain on your personnel record. And nobody would trust you anymore,” she said. “If I get promoted, people will gossip that it was because I slept with you or someone higher than you. That path to career success would be forever littered with baggage. I might as well quit the force.”

“I don’t know why people have a penchant for sticking their noses in other people’s private lives,” he said indignantly. “We may be public servants but we’re not robots. We are human beings, too. In any case, we’re both unattached and free to choose whom we love.”

“I know, Richard. I guess it would be up to us to determine what our priorities are when we continue with this relationship. For now, I’m happy that we are on the same page—that our feelings are mutual, that we want to be together and are open to discussing things,” she said as she reached for his arm.

“I know it’s not going to be easy. Even now, a part of me, the logical, by-the-book part, is telling me it would be foolhardy,” he surmised. “You love your job. And so do I. But I don’t want you to make that dreaded choice or be damned for following your heart. We’ll think of a way.”

“I could always work in Guadeloupe,” Camille suggested quietly. Commissioner Patterson would probably hate it but she would rather risk his anger with her than have Richard go back to London without her. 

“Not if it’s undercover,” he said, rather too quickly. Foot in his mouth again, he thought. He was going to qualify the statement but he chose to tell her his opinion instead. “At the risk of sounding like I’m trying to meddle with your decisions, I don’t think I could rest easy with you in another island AND doing such a dangerous work.”

Camille smiled at his honesty. “I’m sure Commissioner Picot can make concessions.”

“Provided she doesn’t match you up with every available bachelor in Guadeloupe,” he huffed, still smarting from the lady commissioner’s Catherine-Bordey-move at the party.

She laughed and squeezed his arm affectionately. She was beginning to feel less anxious at the prospect of a future with him. She knew that their every decision would always have consequences and sacrifices, but it didn’t have to be all doom and gloom. They just had to make some compromises along the way.

She furtively stole a glance at the man beside her, noticing that his face looked younger and more at ease. This talk with him seemed tentative at best, but she felt it was a good start.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, we are nearing the end of this saga. LOL. Just two more chapters to read and it's done. Aren't you glad? ;-) My apologies, if this story made you want to flip tables. I had the same feeling when I was writing it to the point of hating its very guts. But the hate was only a phase because I enjoyed where it had taken me. So I hope you got the same enjoyment, too. Even just a little.
> 
> I'll be posting Chapter 23 and 24 on Sunday and Monday, respectively. No point in prolonging the end, right? After that, I'll be in hiatus to finish my other two RxC fanfics. I don't know which one I'm going to do first, Giving Up, Giving in or Past Tense. But I'll be doing the same method, finish the whole story and regularly post it on here like I did with this story. So thanks again for taking the time to read this fic. ٩ʕ◕౪◕ʔو


	23. Chapter 23

* * *

They finally arrived at the resort. Richard went in the reception area to return the bike and pay for its rental while Camille waited for him outside. When he came out, they walked side-by-side to the cottage.

“I have to get another key card since I left the first one inside. I was in hurry to go after you that I didn’t think to grab it and put in my pocket earlier,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Camille whispered, a bit shamefaced.

“No need to apologise. I would have ran after you to the ends of the earth without really caring what I leave behind anyway,” he replied.

Thinking he just said the corniest line, he decided to change the subject: “Um, I ordered dinner if that’s all right? You haven’t eaten anything since your brunch. I feel guilty that this is the second time I’ve let you not eat. That’s really ungentlemanly of me.”

“Why, Richard, you seem to be becoming attuned to my needs. Don’t you know that’s what couples do?” Camille teased.

“Well, I think we’ve already started being a couple way back when we started understanding each other through mere eye contact,” said Richard smugly, opening the cottage door.

“You mean, we’re already a couple but we didn’t know it,” she said incredulously. “Oh my, we wasted so much time. Shall we make up for it then?” She smiled at him mischievously, waiting to see if Richard would take the bait.

He, in turn, was so very tempted to grab and take her to bed but his fastidious self prevented him from being spontaneous. “Um, I think I ought to hit the shower. I’m uncomfortably sweaty and I have to get rid of the ton of sand...”

“...in your shoes,” Camille rolled her eyes, dismissing him with a wave. Sometimes, he was no fun at all. “Well, go on then. Get showered and changed. I’ll wait for the food.”

He moved closer to her and shyly kissed her cheek. “Thanks. Um, I’ll be really quick.”  He dragged his case in the bathroom and closed the door. But then, he popped his head back out. “You’re not going to runaway again, are you? I mean, I don’t want to have to run after you with only a towel on this time.” He chuckled nervously.

“No I won’t. I promise I will be right here,” reassured Camille. “Although, it would be quite amusing to see you running around with only the towel on.”

“Not if you only have a towel on as well,” quipped Richard with a teasing glint in his eyes. Too late to realize what he just said out loud.

Camille was taken aback by his brazen attitude and decided to test it, stalking toward him like a cat who sighted a helpless little bird: “Oh? So should I join you in the shower then?”

Richard immediately blushed deep red. He realized his racy joke had gone too far. “Um, I think I better go in the shower. Don’t want to waste the running water you know. Um...I...I see you in a bit.”

Camille giggled heartily. Why was it that she experiences a whole gamut of emotions whenever she was in his company? Earlier, she was crying her eyes out, worrying about their future and now, she was laughing her heart out, enjoying the easy and familiar banter with him. 

If people were to ask her what she found attractive about him, she would probably have a difficult time pinpointing an exact something. She knew it wasn’t just one thing, it was a combination of things that go beyond outward appearances. Not that she didn’t find him physically attractive. She would even admit that all her teasing earlier was to get him in the mood.

But she wasn’t the kind of person who could be intimate with someone she didn’t have an emotional connection with. And she had that connection with Richard. She didn’t know when it started only that she deeply cared for him despite his pompous, pedantic and annoying personality.

For why else would she insist on getting close to him? The truth was, he fascinated her, challenged her, made her laugh but most of all, he inspired her to look past the straight laced exterior and find the decent, kind and sweet man within. Even if it took a lot of pushing and pulling on both their sides.

A knock on the door alerted her that the delivery of their early dinner had arrived. She opened the door and found a waiter with a food cart. He greeted her and went directly to the table. He efficiently cleared the remnants of Richard’s lunch and got to setting the table.

He carefully placed a white linen cloth on the table and put the meal plates with warming covers on it as well. He brought out two empty wine glasses, fresh flowers on a vase and two white candles in a hurricane lamp candle holders, which he adroitly lighted. The piece de resistance included a bottle of Sanglovese in an ice bucket and an assortment of chocolate-dipped fruits.

Camille was dumbstruck. She thought Richard had only asked for a simple dinner of sandwiches and beers. She never expected that he would arranged something lavish and romantic as this whole candlelit dinner.

Richard? Romantic? She couldn’t even picture the two words together. But here was the stark proof. Oh he surprised her again, so much so that she couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

“Do you want the wine to be opened now, miss?” asked the waiter. She just nodded. After pouring red wine in the empty glasses, he said his goodbye to Camille and pushed his cart out the door. She sat by the table as she took a small sip of the wine, contemplating her next move.

She heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Richard in his usual striped blue pyjamas, wheeling his case out. She grinned at him and said: “Wow, the pyjamas I like made an appearance.”

“Well, I didn’t bring any casual clothing, so I...I guess, I would have to make do with these,” Richard blustered, colouring with embarrassment.

He felt a bit ridiculous at wearing his pyjamas but since they were spending the night at the cottage he might as well wear them already. Were they really going to sleep under the same roof? ‘Don’t go there, Poole, just don’t.’ He reminded himself.

“It’s all right. It’s appropriate, we’re going to spend the night here anyway,” Camille said, casually. Richard avoided her gaze. “Um, do you notice something?”

Richard knew what she was referring to. His eyes spotted the candlelit setup as soon as he walked out of the bathroom. When he saw it, he felt he had probably overdone it. He feared Camille might misconstrue the whole thing as a strategy to seduce her. But he just wanted to celebrate them being together. His mind search for words to explain this to her quickly.

“Yeah. It looks great. Do you like it? I wasn’t really expecting it to be over the top like this but if you think it’s not really a good idea...we could just eat on the couch?”

Camille gave him a displeased look. And he quickly knew what it meant. He sighed. “Um, actually I requested the setup because I want to celebrate what we have...ah, you know, our new relationship.” He smiled shyly. “Also, it’s my attempt at being romantic.”

She smiled back at him and walked to where he was. “Oh I think it’s VERY romantic.” She placed her hands on his chest and moved her face closer to his. “And I quite like it.”

Richard felt the familiar heady feeling again when she was this near to him. He closed his eyes and made ready to receive her lips but Camille stopped short. “I need to take a shower,” she said as she stepped away from him.

“Shower?” he squeaked in surprise. “Why do you need to shower?”

Camille rolled her eyes at him. “Uh, I walked on a dirt road in the heat. I’m all kinds of sticky and sweaty. Plus, I have sand in my sandal,” she declared, imitating his voice. He inclined his head and crossed his arms at her. She gave him a wicked smile and went to inspect her overnight bag for toiletries but decided to just bring the bag in the bathroom.

“I thought you’re hungry. You could eat, I mean, we could eat first,” Richard suggested, trying to get the image of Camille in the shower out of his head.

“I don’t want to eat when I’m this dusty and smelly,” she said as she headed to the bathroom. Then she quickly turned to him and said: “Oh and don’t eat yet. I want us to have a romantic dinner together. Okay?”

 He didn’t think she was dusty or smelly. She actually smelled nice to him. But he knew better than to argue so he just nodded in defeat. “All right.”

"Good. I’ll just be a minute.”

Richard wasn’t all that clueless when it came to women. Sure, he was shy and tried to protect himself from them. But he had been in a relationship before and when a woman says she would just be a minute, he knew she would take quite a while to get done. So he resigned himself to waiting for Camille and to accepting the fact that they won’t really get to the nitty gritty talk about their new relationship.

‘What? We’ve got all night. Talk it out even if you won’t get some sleep. Better get it done now or regret it later.’ His left brain piped up.

His right brain couldn’t care less. ‘There are quite a number of big issues to tackle and I doubt you’ll have time to talk about them in depth after you’ve done ‘other’ things.”

He tried to clear his head of what those ‘other’ things might be. But did he really want to do the ‘other’ thing? Of course, he did. For a long time. He was just good at repressing it. But here was an opportunity. A candlelit dinner, a lovely red wine and perhaps some good music. Who knows?

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of what might happen and he unconsciously clutched his chest. He looked down. ‘Bollocks!’ He muttered under his breath. His bloody pyjamas hardly presented an image of a virile man wanting to come on to someone. It looked more like a lighthouse beacon for an old man waiting to go to sleep instead.

He ran his hand over his face. The one time he had Camille alone with him, away from prying eyes and people they knew, he didn’t bring a more suave attire for the occasion. He sighed in acceptance of what he couldn’t change. Well at least, he had clean underwear on.

‘Hold on! Back up for a bit,’ he told himself. ‘I’m getting ahead of myself here. Camille might not be thinking of any of that. God, I’m turning into a pervert.’ But weren’t her teasing earlier sort of hinted what she wanted? Or was he just reading too much into it?

In any case, they were here to talk and come to a decision together on what things to do as they continue with their relationship. They needed to establish if they were in it for the long haul (because he was). They needed to discuss their career issues and how to go about revealing their relationship to their bosses, colleagues and families.

‘It’s too much, too soon,’ said his right brain. ‘Remember the song: Don’t talk, just kiss. You’re beyond words and sound. And just take it from there.’ He closed his eyes to shut out that surging desire his body was  remembering—the one he experienced at the New Year’s Eve party. He loved Camille, he didn’t want to disrespect her by jumping into bed with her wantonly.

Truth be told, he never felt so sure about any woman. Except maybe for that one woman he planned to marry back when he was in Cambridge, studying history and thinking nothing of joining the police force.

And yet with that one, he wasn’t even inclined to get her back when she chose another man over him. But with Camille, he was willing to intensely fight for her and protect her. He would never allow her to get hurt.

If anyone would ask him what attracted him to her, he wouldn’t have any one answer. But then, he would also be unable to list them all in one breath. And they wouldn’t be about her physical attributes alone (even though he found her distractingly alluring in every sense of the word. He marveled at how he remained so focus on the job for so long).

She infuriated him, opposed him at every turn, challenged him and forced him do things he would never have dreamt of doing. But she also encouraged him, supported him and made him feel human. The truth was, she inspired him to try to become a person deserving of her love and care. He knew it had taken them long and hard to arrive at this new relationship but it was well worth it.

He wished he could tell her all of these but unfortunately, he was English. He found it awkward and embarrassing to delve into such sentimentality. He was still in the early days of learning how to be honest about his feelings with her. 

But if she asked him what made him love her, he would show her instead. He took a swift drink of the wine to calm his nerves. This was going to be a long night, he thought.

* * *

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. You've reached the last chapter of this multi-chapter RichardxCamille fanfic. This is quite a milestone for me as I had doubted my ability to write fanfiction stories for a real life television series when I first joined this fandom (I'm more comfortable writing anime/Japanese animation fanfics, you see). 
> 
> But I was able to write some, albeit very short, non-committed ones. But thanks to repeated viewings of DiP Seasons 1&2 and, of course, the huge lot of RxC fanfiction stories from talented writers on here, I was inspired to take that leap and push the limits of my writing comfort zone. It also helped that I love Richard Poole and Camille Bordey as characters. They are such fun to write about and create wonderful scenarios for. I even *almost* forgave Robert Thorogood for what he did to Richard because if he hadn't done that, my imagination won't be able to explore the slew of possibilities for the two. (I said *almost* I really would rather he had done other things to Poole than what he did. I still don't like him for that.)
> 
> So here it is, the result of my commitment to writing and finishing a long (40,000++ words baby!), multi-chapter Richard and Camille love fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for following this story through to its ending. I'd say I love y'all for it but that would be 'horrifically sentimental and mawkish.' A smile, a wink and a grateful tip of the hat I can manage. Thanks again and happy reading! ٩ʕ◕౪◕ʔو

* * *

Inside the bathroom, Camille was already done with her shower and was again rummaging inside her overnight bag, but this time, for clean clothes. Why didn’t she bring extra clothes? She thought: ‘Well, this whole thing was unplanned. Who would have thought Richard could be spontaneous like this.’ She found yesterday’s clothes and grimaced. Out of the question, of course.

She needed something clean and not too sexy or revealing as it might scare him off. Last night’s ‘impropriety’ would probably deter him from doing anything beyond kissing. He couldn’t even handle her teasing earlier.

Knowing Richard’s pedantic and precise nature, he would most likely just want to discuss the details of their new relationship. Not really a departure from what they did when they were trapped inside the weather station during a hurricane a year or so ago. She noticed he liked to talk a lot when there was a crime to solve, when he was in an awkward situation or when he was nervous.

And she was sure he would talk nonstop to prevent them from doing ‘other’ things. She sighed. She knew it was still too early to expect anything, but really they had wasted enough time. When would they level up?

She found her white string bikini. Good thing she brought them. Having a swimsuit wherever she went was one of her practical, undercover rules. She didn’t know if she would need it or not, but at least it was clothing she could stuff in her jeans pocket in case she needed to make a quick escape.

‘Merde! Why can’t I just get out of that mode? I’m not in a life or death situation,’ she told herself, quite frustrated at some work habits she couldn’t easily break. She put on the bikini top and bottom. It would do in a pinch while she put her dusty clothes in the washer. Of course, she couldn’t possibly have a romantic dinner with Richard in these alone, it would be inappropriate. For him, not for her.

She rifled through her bag again and found the blue and white linen tie dye cover-up she bought in one of Guadeloupe’s tourist shops. It was a semi-sheer tunic with snap buttons on the front, a rounded neckline and a low open back. It was quite short, stopped at mid-thigh, but it would do. It was better than the resort’s bathrobe.

She grabbed her phone to look at the time and saw several text messages from her mother. “Merde! Merde! Merde!” She read through her maman’s text, each one escalating into a frantic message to call her. It was 6:30pm.

She deliberated whether to just text or call. She took a deep breath and decided to make a quick call. She tapped her maman’s number and waited for an answer. Her mother’s voice came on in one ring. “Camille, where are you?”

“Maman, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to text you,” she said right away. “I...um...we... are still at the resort.”

“Oh?” said Catherine on the other line. Camille had a feeling one of her mother’s eyebrows was raised when she uttered that word. Despite the questioning tone, the remark was clearly an insinuating statement.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk properly...” she began to explain.

“Ohhhh...” cut in Catherine, sounding as if she knew why.

“No, maman, it’s not what you think. Nothing happened. Nothing like that. Okay?” clarified Camille, rolling her eyes.

“Oh...” uttered Catherine, her voice lowering in intonation due to disappointment.

“Maman! Richard decided that we shouldn’t go back to Saint Marie until we come to a decision on what to do about us. I disagreed so I ran away from him. But he caught me and convinced me to go back and talk things through again. That’s it.” Camille decided to do it in one breath to prevent her mother from having a word in.

“Richard did? Good for him. I like a man who puts his foot down, especially when dealing with someone as gutsy and stubborn as you,” her mother said approvingly. “So?”

“So we are back here and giving it another go and to see if it doesn’t get too overwhelming for both of us,” said Camille, clearly doubting anything major would be decided that night.

“Is he the one you want?”

“Yes.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Does he feel the same way about you?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, I think he does since he ran after you when you tried to runaway. Isn’t that a sign of how serious he is about you?”

“I guess so. I’m just scared that he’ll leave.”

“Ma chere. Not all men are like your father," Catherine pointed out gently. She knew that while Camille appeared outwardly unaffected by her father leaving them, inside her heart was a seed of self-doubt and fear of abandonment. This was why she would do anything to help her get over this fear and be truly free to love. "Believe me, there are decent ones out there and I think you found one. Have you ever stop to think that he may also be equally scared that you’ll leave?”

Camille mulled this over. She suspected that Richard had previous relationships with other women. But she wondered how they ended and how they affected him emotionally.

Did those relationships turn him into the man he is now? A man who repressed his feelings and showed disinterest on the outside to the point of pushing people away. Perhaps, there was someone he loved who had hurt him so badly. She didn’t think about it earlier, but now that her maman mentioned it, it became clear to her.

“I guess, I haven’t thought of that.”

“If you’re going to start a relationship, it is helpful to look beyond your own fears and think about the other person’s fears, too. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about the two of you together.”

“I know, maman.”

“All right. So you’re not coming home to Saint Marie tonight. I shall expect you tomorrow morning then. Unless, of course, both of you will be too tired to get back in the morning,” Catherine teased.

“Maman!”

“What? You’re both consenting adults. Do I need to remind you...”

“Maman, no you don’t need to remind me. I’m old enough to know better.”

“I will light a candle for Erzulie. Just in case.”

“Maman!”

“Whaaaat? I just want you two to have a successful discussion of your relationship. Nothing wrong with that.”

Camille rolled her eyes. She wanted to point out to her mother that she knew what she was up to. But decided to throw in the towel. “Thank you, maman. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“And one more thing, Camille. Please remind Richard that if he hurts you, he’ll never have tea in my bar again. I’m quite serious about that.”

Camille stopped herself from giggling. “Yes, I will tell him. Bonne nuit, maman.”

“Bonne nuit et bonne chance ma chere.”

Camille threw her mobile in her overnight bag and put on the swim cover-up. She could see the faint outline of her bikini underneath it but she shrugged. At least, he wouldn’t be distracted too much.

“Richard, I put your clothes in the dryer. I need to use the washer to launder my clothes. Is that alright?” She said as she came out of the bathroom, tying her hair in a ponytail.

When she didn’t hear any response, she quickly scanned her surroundings. She felt a sense of dejavu. She recalled doing the same thing when she was trying to find him at the hotel lobby before the party.

She found him quickly. He was sitting by the dining table, gazing at her with his green eyes shining and mouth slightly agape. Oh, he was openly ogling her now. “Richard?” she said to call his attention.

But Richard didn't respond. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Earlier, he was startled when the bathroom door opened and saw Camille as she stepped out, busily tying her hair up. As she did so, her dress hiked up a few inches, revealing smooth thighs and a peek of her white bikini bottom. His breath hitched and everything around him was rendered out of focus much like a bokeh effect of a lomo photograph.

“Richard?” Camille’s voice was insistent now and so very near. He blinked and saw her in front of him, with her arms crossed.

“Ah what? I’m sorry I didn’t get what you said earlier,” he stammered, blinking again.

“I asked if it’s alright that I placed your clothes in the dryer?” Camille said as she walked to the other side of the table and sat across from him.

“Oh yes. No problem,” he said, finally regaining his normal breathing pattern. “Shall we eat dinner? The food is getting cold.”

“Yes, I’m quite famished,” Camille said as she took the warming cover off her plate. The smell of house made linguine pasta topped with different seafood in white cream sauce wafted to her nose. It made her hungry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you what you wanted. I wanted to surprise you,” Richard said, a bit self-conscious of his whole plan.

Camille shook her head to tell him it was all right. “It looks delicious. How about you? What did you get?” she asked him eagerly.

“Oh nothing spectacular. I just want to try their fish and chips,” he replied as he uncovered his plate of tempura battered sea bass, fries and lemon caper aioli.

“It looks good, too.” Camille said as she dug into her pasta. She closed her eyes to savour the taste in her mouth.

Richard watched her intently. He was a bit worried that Camille might not like the food he ordered for her. It was a lucky guess that she would like the pasta. From what he covertly observed about her eating preference, she liked seafood and she liked the occasional pasta dishes her mother made at La Kaz. So he drew his conclusion from there and hoped it won’t ruin the romantic surprise.

“I called maman twice today,” Camille said as she took a sip of her red wine.

“Oh?” Richard said, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the news. “Um, I’m guessing you told her and that she...um...knows about us?”

Camille just nodded, smirking into her wine glass. “She told me to let you know that if you hurt me, you would never have tea in her bar again.”

Richard looked at her in alarm. “Seriously?”

Camille nodded again, clearly amused by his reaction.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“Of course not. She specifically reminded me to tell you about it. Twice.”

“Well, I’m not going to hurt you intentionally. I might, on occasion, do it unwittingly. You know, annoy you, displease you, frustrate you, make you upset...”

“Okay, I get the picture. But maman is not referring to that. What she’s alluding to is if you break my heart. You know, if you reject me, leave me, break up with me, cheat on me with another woman...that sort of things...”

“Hang on, I didn’t reject you. I’ve no plans of leaving you or breaking up with you unless you wanted to, in which case we should try to work things out first. And I won’t cheat on you with another woman,” he said adamantly. “Although, you might leave me if a better man comes along.”

Camille gazed at him, tenderness and love mingling in her eyes. She immediately noticed that he uncovered his fear of losing her in a thinly disguised joke. What did the women in his other relationships do to him? Stripped him off his confidence and left him with insecurities and trust issues? She felt angry for him and resolved to give him back what he’d lost as best she could.

“You know, I could have gone with one of the men in those blind dates maman set up for me,” she said casually. She saw him flinch at her statement. “But I didn’t. Do you know why? Because you are a better man than they are and I chose to be with you.”

Richard felt his cheeks colour at what Camille said. He scolded himself for his lack of self-confidence and his lack of trust in her. She was with him not out of pity or misplaced affection. Hadn't she been trying to make him realize these things all along? But as usual, his fear of being rejected and utter insecurity got in the way.

“Or you could go with that Maillard guy. He seemed a nice enough chap,” he said again, not realizing he just pushed her away with his comment.

“Oh he is. Do you know he’s the French prefect’s son? He lives in Paris but does business here in Guadeloupe. He has plans to move here when he finds the right woman to settle down with,” Camille said, with an annoying glint in her eyes. She was miffed at what Richard was doing.

“You know what, maybe I should call him right now, I’m sure he’ll be happy to pick me up here and show me his place. He said it’s a lovely mansion up on the hills with a nice view of the coast,” she stood up to get her phone in her overnight bag.

“He gave you his number?” Richard said incredulously, unable to discern what he had done. Clearly, jealousy was rearing its ugly head.

Camille stopped her search for her phone and glared at him: “You know what, you’re an idiot!”

“I’m an idiot? Well, I’m not the one who has that bloke’s number and apparently, he offered you a tour of his palatial home. I’m sure he has nefarious designs on you once he gets you there,” he groused, failing to rein in an alien emotion raging inside him, this sudden possessiveness of Camille.

“God, you’re so immature!” She threw her hands up in the air in frustration and sat on the couch with her arms crossed. “Why do you have to bring him up? I thought we’re here to talk about our new relationship. Then you make a comment like that, making me feel like you don’t even care about me. Is that what you really want?”

Richard sat by the dining table, dumbfounded. He put his face in his palm when he became fully aware of what he had done. ‘Shit! Why do I always end up pushing her away?’ he thought desperately. He had let his mouth runaway from him again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I was only joking...” He stumbled over his words and sighed. He took Camille’s wine glass along with his and went to where Camille was sitting. He proffered her the glass as a peace offering, which she took reluctantly. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.” He sat down on the other end of the couch.

He grasped for words to give her a sincere explanation. “I’ve developed a bad habit of stopping people from getting close. If they get close, I act like I don’t care because I care too much. I over analyze the smallest things and probably come off as an unfeeling and arrogant git to simply protect myself. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“Look, we both have trust issues. I’m afraid that you’ll just leave me and go to London and you’re afraid that I’ll leave you for another ‘better’ man. But we have got to trust each other or we’re never going to last in this relationship.” Camille finally said, not looking at him but swirling the wine glass in her hand.

“So do you think we can overcome these issues on top of the other concerns we have regarding our jobs and work rules?” Richard asked, staring hard at his own wine glass. His earlier ardour about their new relationship was subsiding after the faux pas he did to Camille.

She scooted close to him, mimicking his sitting posture. “Well, we’re both stubborn. We don’t easily give up. We don’t shy away from complex problems. They even challenge us to push back. Isn’t that our expertise? Solving terribly difficult puzzles together? So what do you think?” This time, she gave him an encouraging look and a shy smile, silently telling him she was willing to tackle any obstacle with him. No matter what.

It was all the forgiveness Richard needed. He moved his face closer to hers and kissed her. Camille eagerly responded by threading her fingers in the hair at his nape. He crushed his lips on hers in return. He was about to gently push her backward on the couch, when the sound of their wine glasses clinking together startled them both, making them spill wine on the floor.

“Ooppss,” Camille said breathlessly while looking sheepishly at him

Richard, equally out of breath, just smiled and cleared his throat. “Let me clean that up. I wouldn’t want us to slip on that wet floor and injure ourselves.” He stood up and took Camille’s glass from her and set their wine glasses on the table. He went inside the bathroom to get a small wet washcloth. 

When he came out, he saw Camille fiddling with the CDs again. He could see the silhouette of her bikini-clad body through her cover-up. Her smooth, long legs seemed to go on forever. She turned away from him, revealing the very low open back of the dress. He swallowed hard, doubting the strength of his self-control. So he studiously concentrated on wiping the red wine off the tiled floor.

Camille found a CD she liked and smiled to herself. They still had a number of things left to discuss but at least they had a general idea of how they would go about their relationship. A day was hardly enough to cover it all.

So now she was devising a way to move their intimacy forward. It would be a shame to waste a lovely night in this private cottage. She turned the component on and put a disc in the player. Natalie Cole’s beautiful voice came on the cottage’s surround sound.

She walked toward Richard and held out her hand. He glanced up at her, a questioning look on his face. “Let’s dance,” Camille simply said. He remained unmoved, so she took the wet washcloth off his hand and threw it on the coffee table, pulling him up and taking him at the center of the living area.

“You seemed to have become addicted to dancing,” Richard chuckled as he took her in his arms and held her close.

“Only with you,” she replied, giggling. “You don’t want to dance?”

“I didn’t say that. I actually like being this close to you,” he said, burying his face on her neck. He caressed her bare back, savouring the contact of their skin. They slowly swayed to the music.

Meanwhile, Nat King Cole crooned the lyrics to the song in a duet with his daughter.

_When I give my heart it will be completely_

_Or I'll never give my heart_

_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too_

_Is when I fall in love with you._

“So do we tell the Commissioner first?” Camille said, enjoying every slow stroke of his hand on her back.

“Which commissioner?”

“Commissioner Patterson, of course,” she said, freeing herself from him a little to level him a look.

“Oh. Yes, we should,” he replied absentmindedly. “It’s a small island. I rather that we inform him ourselves instead of hearing it from the island grapevine. Don’t you think? Though, not because we want his permission or anything. We just want to inform him.”

“Oh?” It was Camille’s turn to wonder as she gave in to a small smile. “We’ll just inform him?”

It was his turn to level her a look. “If he doesn’t give us his permission or blessing or whatever, do we put a stop to our relationship?”

“Of course not!” Camille was quick to answer.

“So regardless of whether he opposed it or not, we’ll just inform him that we’re seeing each other romantically,” said Richard resolutely.

“How about Dwayne and Fidel?”

“We’ll tell them as well. I’m sure they will understand our circumstances.”

“I’m sure they will. I have a feeling that they already know we have a 'thing' for each other anyway. They’re just good at pretending not to notice.”

“They do?” Richard asked in alarm. “I thought I was good at hiding my 'thing' for you.”

Camille screwed up her face as soon as he said the word ‘thing’ but couldn’t help herself from giving in to a hearty laugh. Richard stared at her, visibly puzzled. “Oh, I’m sure you hid it very well under all that woolen suit of yours,” she said in between her laughter to give him a clue.

Richard blinked once or twice until he cottoned on. He blushed profusely and nuzzled her neck to hide his embarrassment, reveling at the sound of Camille’s laughter reverberating under his skin.

That familiar heady feeling came back to him in full force as he began to alternately give her neck soft kisses and little nibbles. Camille gasped as he roamed his mouth on the hollow of her neck. “Well...” he said in between kisses. “...I’ve no intention...” As he brought her even closer to him, wanting to feel the heat of her body against him. “...of hiding it from you tonight.”

Camille brought his face to hers and pressed her lips on his. He groaned when she opened her mouth to receive his demanding tongue. Their kiss was intense and quiet as if the whole world had gone silent for a minute or two. She felt his hand, touching every part of her and exquisitely burning her bare skin. She could sense herself melting.

And Richard was only too glad to melt with her. He couldn’t stop, he didn’t know how. His desire for her overwhelmed him with every deep kiss and with every soft caresses. The heat was unbearable. The euphoria was too much. He yearned for her.

“Camille...” He whispered, his voice ragged and rough. They were both breathless, their hot breaths fanning their flushed faces. “I...” he said in between gasps for air. But he couldn’t will his brain to form a coherent thought, let alone utter a full sentence.

“It’s all right, Richard. It’s just the two of us here. Nobody knows us. We’re far away,” Camille finally whispered back as if sensing his need for reassurance and something akin to permission.

He felt a great weight lifted off his heart and mind. The prospect of making love to her for the first time without worries or pressure only heightened his need for her. He continued his loving ministrations, more eager and enthusiastic than before. He wrapped his arms around her bare back, running his hands down the ridge of her spine.

Camille’s breath hitched as he nibbled at her earlobe. “I have it in good authority that the bed is quite comfortable,” he whispered, delighted at the soft moan he elicited from her. He tugged playfully at the string of her bikini top.

“Oh?” asked Camille, her voice sensual and thick in his ears. “Do you mean to take me to bed, Richard?”

“As you wish,” he said, suddenly sweeping her off her feet and walking toward the bedroom. He paused to say something to her ear: “Princess Buttercup.”

Camille’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. “What? I’m an 80s child, Camille. I read the book and I know about the film,” he said cheekily.

She laughed, quite pleased he knew the reference to the very same words she said to him at the party. She held onto him tight and buried her face in his neck, feeling his pulse quickened at his every breath. She would make love to this man for the first time without fear of the future or of the consequences that lay before them.

They would commit themselves to this change sans regret or remorse. For they knew with all their hearts, the present time they would build together is the only thing that mattered. The rest, as they say, would begin from there.

 

_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too_

_Is when I'll fall in love with you..._

FIN

* * *


End file.
